SGA - Eternals
Another OT4 AU story, though this one contains less crack than the last one. Written for the OT4 Fest going on over at team_sga. Posted this early in the morning so I don't forget to do it later today.
Title: Eternals
Genre: AU, Team/OT4
Season/Spoilers: Ronon's in it.
Rating: R for violence and language.
Synopsis: Suicidal tendencies don't mean as much when you know you're going to make it through to the other side.
Author's Notes: Fusion with the Highlander universe, though no one from that universe appears in this story. Makes the assumption that Quickenings travel to the nearest person or persons available. Written for the team_sga OT4 Fest.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, I am just borrowing them to play with and making no profit from this.
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“Shit!” Sheppard grunted as the bullet hit its target. He fell back against a conveniently placed tree, feeling the warm wetness flow from his chest and puddle on his stomach where he doubled over. To top it off, he felt another presence approaching behind him. Like the one in front of him wasn’t enough.
He raised his gun, knowing it was pretty much useless in the given situation, but not having the strength to grab for his blade, which was buried somewhere both beneath and behind him. There was still a chance he could get off a lucky shot, if it didn’t ricochet off one of the many trees or miss all together.
Instead, something a little unexpected happened.
A very familiar looking knife came flying through the air to imbed itself in his opponent’s throat, a blue, sizzling light already forming around it before Ronon’s boots hit the ground in front of him, fist gripping the hilt and pulling it through in possibly the most grotesque way possible. The head tilted to the side, energy coursing around it and up the blade, before the last connection to its body was removed as almost an afterthought.
“What the...” Sheppard started to complain. Ronon silenced him with a finger to his lips and a gleam in his eye.
That pause was all the time it took for the Quickening to take hold. Bolts of light and power came pouring from the decapitated body, cascading across the ground, up the trees, folding around the two men, enveloping them both until they too screeched out its rather painful song. Any complaint he may have had was swallowed by the darkness that followed.
His eyes shot back open with a gasp, limbs seizing even as he could still feel the residual energy from the Quickening dancing along his skin. He looked up to find Ronon towering over him, the same gleam in his eye as he offered a hand to pull him upright.
“What the hell was that?” John demanded, breath still coming in harsh pants. He picked the bullet off his chest and tossed it to the ground in disgust. Ignoring his friend’s hand, he used the tree behind him to pull himself up instead.
The larger man just shrugged, unrepentant. “Seemed like the easiest way to take care of the problem and get you back,” he non-explained. He wiped the blood and gore that stained his hunting knife onto the leg of his trousers. “There’s more where he came from, come on,” he urged, pulling a recalcitrant Sheppard along when he didn’t move fast enough.
John broke free from the grasp and adjusted his weaponry, keeping the pace easily as the power still hummed in his veins. “We don’t interfere in other’s fights, how many times do I need to explain that?” he ground out, hurdling a fallen log.
“Wasn’t a fight,” Ronon countered. “It was an Eternal getting the drop on you and trying to take you down so he could take you out.”
“Immortal,” John automatically corrected. The trees were thinning now, the clearing with the gate not far ahead. “The rules...”
“Earth rules,” Ronon pointed out, holding out an arm to stop him from running much further ahead. “Stupid rules,” he added with a grin. It was an old argument, but apparently one that was not going to die anytime soon.
“My rules,” Sheppard offered.
“And my rules say I’ve got to keep you alive so you can help protect the Ancestral City and take down the Wraith,” Ronon countered.
John sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face and into his hair, not surprised when it came away with blood. “Christ, Ronon, you make me sound like the Second Coming or something,” he muttered.
“You have any idea how long it’s been since an Ancestor-borne became an Eternal?” his friend replied, still scouting the area.
John pretended to think about it. “No, I don’t. I guessed I must have missed that the first 400 times you mentioned it.”
Anything else he was going to say was interrupted by the appearance of the rest of their team. “Oh, give me a break! Gore much?” Rodney exclaimed upon seeing him. He shifted his P-90 to his other hand, poking at the blood turning tacky just above John's half-zipped vest. “Like it wasn’t bad enough having to explain how the Wraith ‘revived’ you... There’s no way they’re going to believe you lived through this one.”
Teyla was at his side, gun in one hand and a sizable blade in the other. “His vest will cover the worst of it and we shall try to make certain he only sees Doctor Beckett upon our return,” she declared. With a quick glance behind her, she added, “We must leave now. They are getting closer and are quite... adamant about our deaths.”
Rodney shook his head, poking Sheppard once more, this time making sure it was on the relatively dry vest. “Only you would just happen to find an entire fucking clan of Immortals with a grudge against the Ancients,” he muttered.
“How is this my fault?” Sheppard protested, just as Ronon cut in with a, “Show some respect.”
McKay eyed them both warily, no doubt taking in the still blown pupils, quick breaths, and nervous energy. “Another one? You shared another Quickening?” he accused. “He’s going to be more loyal than a puppy dog now...”
“Shut up, McKay,” both men growled. Neither were surprised when he just waved it off. There had been no heat to his words and everyone involved knew he was just as protective, if not more so, of his supposed charge.
“I’m sure Beckett will love more fodder for his research but, really, you’re at like three of them now and that’s just weird,” Rodney continued, less than subtly checking for any other injuries.
John inwardly cringed. Somehow, he had managed to not only get his very own Watcher tag-a-long, but a second, data-obsessed version of the researcher variety as well. Beckett was completely fascinated by not just the Immortals, but how they evolved and became what they are today. He would have gone even without John joining the expedition, simply to discover whether or not Immortals existed outside of the confines of the Milky Way galaxy. Every tiny piece of data was overanalyzed and carefully recorded to send back to his superiors whenever possible. It made Rodney’s three-page per battle reports and Teyla’s collection of supposed folk tales look like bullet-point summaries. Mix that with Quickenings shared between not only two Immortals, but two Immortals from different galaxies, and it made for a long night.
Thinking about it, he realized he technically had three Watchers, or Chroniclers as they were called out here. He just happened to share the native version with a native version of himself. He kind of preferred their ways: less with the hiding and stalking and more with the cooperation and friendship. Things that would have been outlawed on Earth were encouraged here. It was strange, but a good kind of strange.
Plus, Teyla was excellent with a blade and fully expected to use it at any given opportunity.
Their teammate was even starting to teach Rodney, displeased that he had never been properly trained, despite his complaints that Watchers were supposed to watch only, and never get involved. The first time John had been in a fight around him, it took Teyla holding him back to prevent him from interfering. When asked, he said he hadn't been thinking about the Watcher/Immortal relationships, only that John was his friend and he wanted to help. It was around then that Teyla had started calling him a Chronicler as well. Beckett had bitched him out, but Rodney had just ignored it, as with most things he found unimportant, letting Teyla explain that Earth rules were not the only rules in play anymore.
“Not in the Pegasus galaxy,” Ronon pointed out, bringing him back to the present. “The Eternals actually get along here.”
“With the exception of the insane, cult-like, anti-everything horde currently following us,” Sheppard said laconically before Rodney got the chance.
“This same horde is approaching rapidly,” Teyla pointed out. She flexed her trigger finger and twirled her blade in her other hand. “As much as Doctor McKay and I enjoy our discussions on shared Quickenings and the separate roles of Watchers and Chroniclers in our two galaxies, said discussions may be more enjoyable elsewhere.”
John grinned. The woman had a talent for diplomatic understatement. “Shall we?” he asked with a dramatic sweep of his arm towards the clearing with the DHD.
“We shall,” Teyla agreed, only partially getting the joke but obviously just pleased they were finally moving. She gave him a wink and a nod, moving to take point.
As they stepped closer to where the trees thinned some more to become pretty much non-existent, Rodney stopped them with, “Before we go all a-shalling here, can I note it might be in our best interest to go some place other than Atlantis? Give Colonel Bloodlust here a chance to not look like a particularly gruesome corpse, and stop the ‘evil horde’ from following us to our stronghold and all that?” The sarcasm was dripping from his voice enough that John didn’t need to see his face to know he was rolling his eyes.
It was a sound suggestion, and one the others were probably thinking of as well, it was just surprising that Rodney spoke up about it first. Maybe all those tactical lessons were finally sinking in. To gate straight to Atlantis would risk not only the expedition discovering the truth about their lead team, but also risk the other Immortals following or discovering the address, which was bad enough. They needed to go some place neutral, somewhere safe, but that wouldn’t put any indigenous populations at risk. He turned to Ronon just as the other warrior turned to him, both declaring, “I know just the place.”
That decided, they made a run for it, not surprised by the men pouring out of the other side of the clearing after them. John dialed, hearing the satisfying echo of gunfire mixed with the tang of steel in the air. He punched his fist on the central crystal, watching as the wormhole burst open, one of their opponents just barely ducking out of the way in time.
“Come on!” he ordered, already running towards the portal, fighting off several attackers along the way and giving at least one a decent slice. Rodney was closest to the horizon and he pushed him through, following shortly behind him. The heavy thud of footsteps followed by a grunt told him Ronon had made it as well. He turned in time to see Teyla duck through and take up position on one side of the gate while a bleeding Ronon took the other, swords drawn and at the ready. Sure enough, two of the clan made it through, only to lose their heads before they even stepped off the dais.
“Shit,” Rodney swore, rolling away from the DHD he had been using for cover. Teyla jumped away at the same time, instantly bringing her gun up and keeping it trained on the still open wormhole in case there were any stragglers coming through.
“Here we go again,” John muttered before a flash of light and pain absorbed him once more.
He rode out the Quickening the best he could until, finally, he could take no more, falling to his knees with a hoarse shout, only his blade sinking into the ground in front of him keeping him at least partially upright. He nearly blacked out, the remaining aftershocks of energy the only thing keeping him conscious. He opened his eyes again slowly, moaning, “I need a beer.”
Ronon stumbled down the steps beside him, plopping down less than elegantly on the grass and dirt. “I need a fuck,” he one-upped him, flopping onto his back, dreads in disarray around him.
“Don’t look at me,” Sheppard yawned, letting his eyes drift shut again. One Quickening was enough to energize you. Two were enough to make you comatose.
Rodney’s voice carried to them from the other side of a grassy knoll. “Remember to thank the Marines who taught him that term, will you?” he complained over Teyla's stifled chuckle. There was the sound of shuffling feet, followed by a thud of a pack hitting the dirt. “Oh, this is so not good...” Rodney whispered, more to himself than to the other members of his team.
“What’s wrong?” Sheppard asked, forcing himself to open his eyes again. Looking to the gate, he got his answer. There were arcs of blue energy circling the ring, little pockets of wormhole forming and dissipating, only to form again. “Huh, that’s new,” he commented, trying to push himself up to his feet again.
On the third try, he succeeded, wandering over to where the DHD was doing its best impersonation of a disco. Rodney was already crouched beside it, rummaging through the gear in his pack while making abortive motions towards the sparks.
“Here,” Ronon offered, tossing him a pair of leather gloves from his own pack.
McKay took them and put them on, still making wincing and jerking movements as he pulled open the control panel on the dialer as if afraid the charges would travel through the heavy skin. Once open, the crystals inside displayed a lightshow of their own, flashing in non-descript patterns that looked ready to overload at any given moment. “So not good...” Rodney muttered, pulling out a work tablet to try to get some readings.
“What happened?” Teyla asked as she approached, brushing twigs and leaves from her hair and uniform. Gazing at the sparks and lights, she raised an eyebrow. “I do not believe I have ever seen such a thing before.”
“Quickening hit the gate,” John explained. “With all its naquada, it’s like a superconductor and going nuts.”
“Thank you, Mister Wizard,” Rodney snarked, reaching for a crystal and jumping back as line of blue traced up his arm, even with the gloves. “Ow.”
“Can you fix it?” Ronon asked, leaning against his Chronicler in an effort to stay upright.
Rodney shook his head. “I can’t even touch it at this point,” he admitted. “If it lasts much longer, I’d bet fair money those crystals are going to blow, and then we’d be stuck here.” He paused, looking around. “Where is here anyway?”
They were in the center of a fairly large field, but there was a definite road snaking its way through the grass towards what looked to be a sizable city. Well, it would have been one if it were still in once piece. The Wraith had obviously left their mark, the few buildings still standing covered in ash and debris. It didn’t look like anyone had lived there for quite some time, any survivors fleeing to various other planets. In other words, Standard Pegasus History 101. It could have been any of hundreds of worlds, but had been chosen for a reason.
“Sateda,” Ronon replied, almost wistfully.
Rodney’s back straightened slightly, granting both Ronon and the planet the respect it deserved. A spark shot out from the crystals, ruining the moment as the scientist started cursing again.
“There may be supplies left in one of the factories that could be of some use,” Teyla suggested. Her eyes kept flitting back and forth, making a circuit between the gate, the dialer, and the city. The chance of anyone getting through the gate was pretty small at this point, even if the pockets of wormhole stabilized, but John could tell it was still on her mind. Two weakened Immortals and a screwed up gate? At this point, he was betting she was thinking of a strategic retreat to some place a bit safer than where they were currently huddled.
“I don’t think there’s time,” Rodney replied, making another abortive grab at the crystals. He managed to get one out, but also managed to get knocked back on his ass. “Ow,” he complained, again.
John bit his lip, trying to think of something, anything, to help. On the plus side, a blown gate meant guaranteed no more horde of Immortals following them. On the down side, it also meant no chance of getting home as no one on Atlantis knew where they were. He was still trying to think through the other options but, so far, he was coming up with nothing.
“Are you sure you have never heard of something like this before?” he tried, looking between his two native teammates.
Teyla shook her head slowly, then cocked it slightly to the side, eyes lighting in memory. “There was something... One of the Chronicles from many generations ago... There was a battle near an Ancestral Ring, the victor claiming her prize after the destination was dialed, but before the victim was able to travel.” She frowned. “I do not believe it offers the solution you seek, however.”
“Why not?” Rodney prompted.
“The Ring exploded and took out a fair amount of the surrounding land. The explosion attracted the attention of the Wraith, who captured the Eternal during their investigation. She escaped and reported the incident to the nearest Chronicler, but her own perished in the explosion,” she reported.
“Right, let’s not let that happen,” John commented, trying hard not to imagine his mortal teammates exploding - that was simply unacceptable. He was also trying hard not to imagine Ronon or himself exploding, the recovery time involved, or the likelihood of losing a limb or head in the process. “Ideas?”
“We need to stop the flow of energy, and we need to do it now!” Rodney told him, reaching for another crystal. His hands were already shaking and he was biting his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, but he managed to get it out. “Damn it! Why didn’t that work? You're Ancient tech, I have the gene, why won't you listen to me?” he asked the control panel, scolding it like a child. He only ever did that when we was either truly stressed or out of options, neither of which were ever a good sign. It was enough for Sheppard to start to worry.
Nine times out of ten, even if they did not have the physical tools for the job, their gene was enough to nudge the tech in the right direction, the extra connection coercing it into doing what needed to be done. Rodney’s was artificial, but still usually worked as well as a natural carrier’s. Mix that with his knowledge of all things technological, and usually they had a go. It wasn’t working, which meant there was something different going on, something extra, something not-so-good.
John swallowed, suddenly knowing what had to be done. “It’s not just energy, it’s a Quickening,” he said.
“Which is pretty much just energy, just in a different form, and oh, no, you are so not doing it!” the Watcher protested, turning to face him as realization of what he planned to do dawned on his face. “I know you love all your heroic, suicidal rescues, but usually you know you are going to come out relatively whole on the other side. This is different. This could kill you for real, as in permanently, as in no coming back. You can't do this. You are not doing this!” he insisted, as frantic as the energy coursing through the gate.
“Yes, I am,” Sheppard told him with a calmness he did not feel.
One motion had Teyla and Ronon pulling Rodney back away from the DHD, holding him in place while he continued to shout his objections, and various comments about John’s lineage. He ignored that, focusing instead on what he needed to do. He felt the draw of the Ancient tech mixed with the draw of the Quickening. Taking a deep breath, he made his move. The pain arced through him for only a moment, and then there was blessed black.
When he awoke with a gasp, he was laying flat out, his head pillowed on something that felt like a field pack. His muscles ached, and not just in that little post-workout kind of way. No, this much more of a screaming in agony kind of way, complete with random tremors and pounding headache that made him really thankful of his healing abilities.
Actually, thinking about that, it kind of worried him. He was an Immortal. He healed. Why the hell wasn’t he healing? He turned head slightly from side to side, trying to find where he could both hear and feel the presence of his friends. Blinking his eyes open, the random colors started to resolve themselves into the familiar blurs of his teammates. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a low moan.
A cool hand pressed against his heated skin. Blinking again, the blur became distinctively Teyla shaped. “Shh,” she soothed, smoothing back his hair. “Do not try to move yet, you are not fully healed,” she directed.
“Water?” he tried. It came out in a croak, but he thought he got his point across.
“In a moment,” she promised. “Let the Quickening do its work, and you can have some when you are ready to sit up.” She pressed her lips to his forehead and sat back up, still steadily running her fingers through his hair.
He nodded, figuring it was sound advice. He also figured, given the way he felt, that it might be a while before he got that canteen. He let his eyes drift close and concentrated on the feeling of skin pulling itself back together, of bones knitting themselves whole. He felt Ronon's quiet strength at his right and Rodney's warmth at his left, which told him it had worked, his friends were alive and safe, and that's all that really mattered. He had no idea if the gate was still in one piece, but he figured he’d take what he could at this point. The important things were covered, so he could let himself rest.
“He okay?” he heard Rodney ask, felt him shift at his side.
“He will be fine,” Teyla assured him.
“Good, because that was incredibly stupid,” McKay huffed.
“Saved us,” Ronon pointed out.
“And nearly killed himself,” Rodney countered.
“But I didn’t,” he chimed in.
“Not this time,” his Watcher muttered. Louder now, he said, “Okay, where was I?”
“Explaining why we are to tell Elizabeth that the group of Eternals were Wraith worshippers,” Teyla reminded him. That was a good thing. If they were worried about telling Elizabeth, it meant there was a good chance they would see her again, which meant there was a good chance the gate was still functional. His day was looking up. Relatively speaking, that was.
“Oh yeah,” Rodney said. There was the sound of munching and the crinkle of a wrapper, followed by a paper-like tickle next to John’s hand. He twitched it away. “If we say that, she won’t send another team back to try to negotiate.”
“But we could use some of the fruit produced on that world,” Teyla pointed out.
“There’s fruit on other planets,” Rodney countered. “Do you really want to risk them finding out about Immortals, about Sheppard and Ronon, and shipping them off to be experimented on? I’d say they’re worth more than a bushel of apples.”
“I know you have explained it before, but I still do not understand why the Eternals must hide on your planet. There are prejudices here, but not so much as to risk the lives of those who protect entire villages,” Teyla mused. It was an old argument, but one that had yet to be resolved. It made less sense to her than it did to John, and he lived through it.
“Their planet is weird,” Ronon summed it up for her.
“You got that right,” Rodney agreed. “Hey, did I tell you just how much trouble getting Sheppard to join the expedition was?”
“Leaving one’s homeworld is always a difficult choice,” Teyla considered. She always sounded so logical to John, whether discussing trade agreements, season weather patterns, or Immortals and interplanetary travel.
“Well, there’s that, mixed with not knowing how the Immortality would work away from Earth and the Milky Way,” Rodney was telling her. She made a questioning noise as if this was something she had never thought to wonder about amongst the people of her own galaxy, and he explained, “Most supposed Immortals the SGC had run into on other planets were either Goa’ulded mortals or mortals playing around with technology to lengthen their lives. I’m talking about getting John, one of our kind of Immortals, from Earth to the Pegasus galaxy though.”
“What do you mean?”
Rodney sighed dramatically. “A modern U.S. soldier carrying around a sword? It's not as obvious or out of place with most Pegasus level tech, but in our world of guns and rocket launchers, they tend to stand out. Even the short ones barely fit into a field pack. You don’t even want to know how hard it was to smuggle a couple of blades along with the original expedition. O’Neill and I had to promise I would find a way of forging them myself if they were confiscated for any reason.”
John smiled at the memory; he really did not think he was being unreasonable at the time.
“Yeah, laugh it up,” Rodney snapped without heat, patting his broken arm for the briefest of moments before realizing what he was doing. “You’re not the one who had to hide them from Sumner and Weir.” There was the sound of a canteen cap, followed by the sloshing of water as his friend took a drink. It reminded him of his own thirst, and made him wonder how much longer it would be before he got a drink. “So, anyway...” Rodney started up again, moving on to five tangents before he got to his point once more.
John let the sound of his voice lull him, floating in a haze of pain and healing, feeling his body become whole once more. He had no idea how long it took, and he really did not care. Occasionally, Rodney's hyper tones were interrupted by Teyla's calmer ones, or Ronon's deeper timbre. There were the quiet beeps of Rodney's computer tablet mixed with the scratch of the strange, pen-like quill thing Teyla preferred to use on her leather-bound parchment, and the familiar scrape of stone against metal as Ronon sharpened his blades.
It was comforting, though he wasn't sure if he ever wanted to admit that to them. Of course, knowing them, they knew it already. The three of them seemed to know more about him than any one person had in his many centuries of life, and he trusted them with that knowledge completely. In turn, they trusted him with their own secrets; a sacred confidence he was not stupid enough to break. All in all, it was pretty cool.
At the end of the day, it didn't matter what planet they ended up on, or even what galaxy they happened to be traveling through. They were together, they were safe, and they were mostly whole and really, that was all he could ask for.
Before he could get too sappy, even with himself, he opened his eyes and pushed himself up onto his elbows. He looked over at the setting sun, watching as it both lit faces and cast shadows across the four of them and asked, “So, about that beer?”
End.
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Feedback is always welcomed.
Title: Eternals
Genre: AU, Team/OT4
Season/Spoilers: Ronon's in it.
Rating: R for violence and language.
Synopsis: Suicidal tendencies don't mean as much when you know you're going to make it through to the other side.
Author's Notes: Fusion with the Highlander universe, though no one from that universe appears in this story. Makes the assumption that Quickenings travel to the nearest person or persons available. Written for the team_sga OT4 Fest.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, I am just borrowing them to play with and making no profit from this.
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“Shit!” Sheppard grunted as the bullet hit its target. He fell back against a conveniently placed tree, feeling the warm wetness flow from his chest and puddle on his stomach where he doubled over. To top it off, he felt another presence approaching behind him. Like the one in front of him wasn’t enough.
He raised his gun, knowing it was pretty much useless in the given situation, but not having the strength to grab for his blade, which was buried somewhere both beneath and behind him. There was still a chance he could get off a lucky shot, if it didn’t ricochet off one of the many trees or miss all together.
Instead, something a little unexpected happened.
A very familiar looking knife came flying through the air to imbed itself in his opponent’s throat, a blue, sizzling light already forming around it before Ronon’s boots hit the ground in front of him, fist gripping the hilt and pulling it through in possibly the most grotesque way possible. The head tilted to the side, energy coursing around it and up the blade, before the last connection to its body was removed as almost an afterthought.
“What the...” Sheppard started to complain. Ronon silenced him with a finger to his lips and a gleam in his eye.
That pause was all the time it took for the Quickening to take hold. Bolts of light and power came pouring from the decapitated body, cascading across the ground, up the trees, folding around the two men, enveloping them both until they too screeched out its rather painful song. Any complaint he may have had was swallowed by the darkness that followed.
His eyes shot back open with a gasp, limbs seizing even as he could still feel the residual energy from the Quickening dancing along his skin. He looked up to find Ronon towering over him, the same gleam in his eye as he offered a hand to pull him upright.
“What the hell was that?” John demanded, breath still coming in harsh pants. He picked the bullet off his chest and tossed it to the ground in disgust. Ignoring his friend’s hand, he used the tree behind him to pull himself up instead.
The larger man just shrugged, unrepentant. “Seemed like the easiest way to take care of the problem and get you back,” he non-explained. He wiped the blood and gore that stained his hunting knife onto the leg of his trousers. “There’s more where he came from, come on,” he urged, pulling a recalcitrant Sheppard along when he didn’t move fast enough.
John broke free from the grasp and adjusted his weaponry, keeping the pace easily as the power still hummed in his veins. “We don’t interfere in other’s fights, how many times do I need to explain that?” he ground out, hurdling a fallen log.
“Wasn’t a fight,” Ronon countered. “It was an Eternal getting the drop on you and trying to take you down so he could take you out.”
“Immortal,” John automatically corrected. The trees were thinning now, the clearing with the gate not far ahead. “The rules...”
“Earth rules,” Ronon pointed out, holding out an arm to stop him from running much further ahead. “Stupid rules,” he added with a grin. It was an old argument, but apparently one that was not going to die anytime soon.
“My rules,” Sheppard offered.
“And my rules say I’ve got to keep you alive so you can help protect the Ancestral City and take down the Wraith,” Ronon countered.
John sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face and into his hair, not surprised when it came away with blood. “Christ, Ronon, you make me sound like the Second Coming or something,” he muttered.
“You have any idea how long it’s been since an Ancestor-borne became an Eternal?” his friend replied, still scouting the area.
John pretended to think about it. “No, I don’t. I guessed I must have missed that the first 400 times you mentioned it.”
Anything else he was going to say was interrupted by the appearance of the rest of their team. “Oh, give me a break! Gore much?” Rodney exclaimed upon seeing him. He shifted his P-90 to his other hand, poking at the blood turning tacky just above John's half-zipped vest. “Like it wasn’t bad enough having to explain how the Wraith ‘revived’ you... There’s no way they’re going to believe you lived through this one.”
Teyla was at his side, gun in one hand and a sizable blade in the other. “His vest will cover the worst of it and we shall try to make certain he only sees Doctor Beckett upon our return,” she declared. With a quick glance behind her, she added, “We must leave now. They are getting closer and are quite... adamant about our deaths.”
Rodney shook his head, poking Sheppard once more, this time making sure it was on the relatively dry vest. “Only you would just happen to find an entire fucking clan of Immortals with a grudge against the Ancients,” he muttered.
“How is this my fault?” Sheppard protested, just as Ronon cut in with a, “Show some respect.”
McKay eyed them both warily, no doubt taking in the still blown pupils, quick breaths, and nervous energy. “Another one? You shared another Quickening?” he accused. “He’s going to be more loyal than a puppy dog now...”
“Shut up, McKay,” both men growled. Neither were surprised when he just waved it off. There had been no heat to his words and everyone involved knew he was just as protective, if not more so, of his supposed charge.
“I’m sure Beckett will love more fodder for his research but, really, you’re at like three of them now and that’s just weird,” Rodney continued, less than subtly checking for any other injuries.
John inwardly cringed. Somehow, he had managed to not only get his very own Watcher tag-a-long, but a second, data-obsessed version of the researcher variety as well. Beckett was completely fascinated by not just the Immortals, but how they evolved and became what they are today. He would have gone even without John joining the expedition, simply to discover whether or not Immortals existed outside of the confines of the Milky Way galaxy. Every tiny piece of data was overanalyzed and carefully recorded to send back to his superiors whenever possible. It made Rodney’s three-page per battle reports and Teyla’s collection of supposed folk tales look like bullet-point summaries. Mix that with Quickenings shared between not only two Immortals, but two Immortals from different galaxies, and it made for a long night.
Thinking about it, he realized he technically had three Watchers, or Chroniclers as they were called out here. He just happened to share the native version with a native version of himself. He kind of preferred their ways: less with the hiding and stalking and more with the cooperation and friendship. Things that would have been outlawed on Earth were encouraged here. It was strange, but a good kind of strange.
Plus, Teyla was excellent with a blade and fully expected to use it at any given opportunity.
Their teammate was even starting to teach Rodney, displeased that he had never been properly trained, despite his complaints that Watchers were supposed to watch only, and never get involved. The first time John had been in a fight around him, it took Teyla holding him back to prevent him from interfering. When asked, he said he hadn't been thinking about the Watcher/Immortal relationships, only that John was his friend and he wanted to help. It was around then that Teyla had started calling him a Chronicler as well. Beckett had bitched him out, but Rodney had just ignored it, as with most things he found unimportant, letting Teyla explain that Earth rules were not the only rules in play anymore.
“Not in the Pegasus galaxy,” Ronon pointed out, bringing him back to the present. “The Eternals actually get along here.”
“With the exception of the insane, cult-like, anti-everything horde currently following us,” Sheppard said laconically before Rodney got the chance.
“This same horde is approaching rapidly,” Teyla pointed out. She flexed her trigger finger and twirled her blade in her other hand. “As much as Doctor McKay and I enjoy our discussions on shared Quickenings and the separate roles of Watchers and Chroniclers in our two galaxies, said discussions may be more enjoyable elsewhere.”
John grinned. The woman had a talent for diplomatic understatement. “Shall we?” he asked with a dramatic sweep of his arm towards the clearing with the DHD.
“We shall,” Teyla agreed, only partially getting the joke but obviously just pleased they were finally moving. She gave him a wink and a nod, moving to take point.
As they stepped closer to where the trees thinned some more to become pretty much non-existent, Rodney stopped them with, “Before we go all a-shalling here, can I note it might be in our best interest to go some place other than Atlantis? Give Colonel Bloodlust here a chance to not look like a particularly gruesome corpse, and stop the ‘evil horde’ from following us to our stronghold and all that?” The sarcasm was dripping from his voice enough that John didn’t need to see his face to know he was rolling his eyes.
It was a sound suggestion, and one the others were probably thinking of as well, it was just surprising that Rodney spoke up about it first. Maybe all those tactical lessons were finally sinking in. To gate straight to Atlantis would risk not only the expedition discovering the truth about their lead team, but also risk the other Immortals following or discovering the address, which was bad enough. They needed to go some place neutral, somewhere safe, but that wouldn’t put any indigenous populations at risk. He turned to Ronon just as the other warrior turned to him, both declaring, “I know just the place.”
That decided, they made a run for it, not surprised by the men pouring out of the other side of the clearing after them. John dialed, hearing the satisfying echo of gunfire mixed with the tang of steel in the air. He punched his fist on the central crystal, watching as the wormhole burst open, one of their opponents just barely ducking out of the way in time.
“Come on!” he ordered, already running towards the portal, fighting off several attackers along the way and giving at least one a decent slice. Rodney was closest to the horizon and he pushed him through, following shortly behind him. The heavy thud of footsteps followed by a grunt told him Ronon had made it as well. He turned in time to see Teyla duck through and take up position on one side of the gate while a bleeding Ronon took the other, swords drawn and at the ready. Sure enough, two of the clan made it through, only to lose their heads before they even stepped off the dais.
“Shit,” Rodney swore, rolling away from the DHD he had been using for cover. Teyla jumped away at the same time, instantly bringing her gun up and keeping it trained on the still open wormhole in case there were any stragglers coming through.
“Here we go again,” John muttered before a flash of light and pain absorbed him once more.
He rode out the Quickening the best he could until, finally, he could take no more, falling to his knees with a hoarse shout, only his blade sinking into the ground in front of him keeping him at least partially upright. He nearly blacked out, the remaining aftershocks of energy the only thing keeping him conscious. He opened his eyes again slowly, moaning, “I need a beer.”
Ronon stumbled down the steps beside him, plopping down less than elegantly on the grass and dirt. “I need a fuck,” he one-upped him, flopping onto his back, dreads in disarray around him.
“Don’t look at me,” Sheppard yawned, letting his eyes drift shut again. One Quickening was enough to energize you. Two were enough to make you comatose.
Rodney’s voice carried to them from the other side of a grassy knoll. “Remember to thank the Marines who taught him that term, will you?” he complained over Teyla's stifled chuckle. There was the sound of shuffling feet, followed by a thud of a pack hitting the dirt. “Oh, this is so not good...” Rodney whispered, more to himself than to the other members of his team.
“What’s wrong?” Sheppard asked, forcing himself to open his eyes again. Looking to the gate, he got his answer. There were arcs of blue energy circling the ring, little pockets of wormhole forming and dissipating, only to form again. “Huh, that’s new,” he commented, trying to push himself up to his feet again.
On the third try, he succeeded, wandering over to where the DHD was doing its best impersonation of a disco. Rodney was already crouched beside it, rummaging through the gear in his pack while making abortive motions towards the sparks.
“Here,” Ronon offered, tossing him a pair of leather gloves from his own pack.
McKay took them and put them on, still making wincing and jerking movements as he pulled open the control panel on the dialer as if afraid the charges would travel through the heavy skin. Once open, the crystals inside displayed a lightshow of their own, flashing in non-descript patterns that looked ready to overload at any given moment. “So not good...” Rodney muttered, pulling out a work tablet to try to get some readings.
“What happened?” Teyla asked as she approached, brushing twigs and leaves from her hair and uniform. Gazing at the sparks and lights, she raised an eyebrow. “I do not believe I have ever seen such a thing before.”
“Quickening hit the gate,” John explained. “With all its naquada, it’s like a superconductor and going nuts.”
“Thank you, Mister Wizard,” Rodney snarked, reaching for a crystal and jumping back as line of blue traced up his arm, even with the gloves. “Ow.”
“Can you fix it?” Ronon asked, leaning against his Chronicler in an effort to stay upright.
Rodney shook his head. “I can’t even touch it at this point,” he admitted. “If it lasts much longer, I’d bet fair money those crystals are going to blow, and then we’d be stuck here.” He paused, looking around. “Where is here anyway?”
They were in the center of a fairly large field, but there was a definite road snaking its way through the grass towards what looked to be a sizable city. Well, it would have been one if it were still in once piece. The Wraith had obviously left their mark, the few buildings still standing covered in ash and debris. It didn’t look like anyone had lived there for quite some time, any survivors fleeing to various other planets. In other words, Standard Pegasus History 101. It could have been any of hundreds of worlds, but had been chosen for a reason.
“Sateda,” Ronon replied, almost wistfully.
Rodney’s back straightened slightly, granting both Ronon and the planet the respect it deserved. A spark shot out from the crystals, ruining the moment as the scientist started cursing again.
“There may be supplies left in one of the factories that could be of some use,” Teyla suggested. Her eyes kept flitting back and forth, making a circuit between the gate, the dialer, and the city. The chance of anyone getting through the gate was pretty small at this point, even if the pockets of wormhole stabilized, but John could tell it was still on her mind. Two weakened Immortals and a screwed up gate? At this point, he was betting she was thinking of a strategic retreat to some place a bit safer than where they were currently huddled.
“I don’t think there’s time,” Rodney replied, making another abortive grab at the crystals. He managed to get one out, but also managed to get knocked back on his ass. “Ow,” he complained, again.
John bit his lip, trying to think of something, anything, to help. On the plus side, a blown gate meant guaranteed no more horde of Immortals following them. On the down side, it also meant no chance of getting home as no one on Atlantis knew where they were. He was still trying to think through the other options but, so far, he was coming up with nothing.
“Are you sure you have never heard of something like this before?” he tried, looking between his two native teammates.
Teyla shook her head slowly, then cocked it slightly to the side, eyes lighting in memory. “There was something... One of the Chronicles from many generations ago... There was a battle near an Ancestral Ring, the victor claiming her prize after the destination was dialed, but before the victim was able to travel.” She frowned. “I do not believe it offers the solution you seek, however.”
“Why not?” Rodney prompted.
“The Ring exploded and took out a fair amount of the surrounding land. The explosion attracted the attention of the Wraith, who captured the Eternal during their investigation. She escaped and reported the incident to the nearest Chronicler, but her own perished in the explosion,” she reported.
“Right, let’s not let that happen,” John commented, trying hard not to imagine his mortal teammates exploding - that was simply unacceptable. He was also trying hard not to imagine Ronon or himself exploding, the recovery time involved, or the likelihood of losing a limb or head in the process. “Ideas?”
“We need to stop the flow of energy, and we need to do it now!” Rodney told him, reaching for another crystal. His hands were already shaking and he was biting his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, but he managed to get it out. “Damn it! Why didn’t that work? You're Ancient tech, I have the gene, why won't you listen to me?” he asked the control panel, scolding it like a child. He only ever did that when we was either truly stressed or out of options, neither of which were ever a good sign. It was enough for Sheppard to start to worry.
Nine times out of ten, even if they did not have the physical tools for the job, their gene was enough to nudge the tech in the right direction, the extra connection coercing it into doing what needed to be done. Rodney’s was artificial, but still usually worked as well as a natural carrier’s. Mix that with his knowledge of all things technological, and usually they had a go. It wasn’t working, which meant there was something different going on, something extra, something not-so-good.
John swallowed, suddenly knowing what had to be done. “It’s not just energy, it’s a Quickening,” he said.
“Which is pretty much just energy, just in a different form, and oh, no, you are so not doing it!” the Watcher protested, turning to face him as realization of what he planned to do dawned on his face. “I know you love all your heroic, suicidal rescues, but usually you know you are going to come out relatively whole on the other side. This is different. This could kill you for real, as in permanently, as in no coming back. You can't do this. You are not doing this!” he insisted, as frantic as the energy coursing through the gate.
“Yes, I am,” Sheppard told him with a calmness he did not feel.
One motion had Teyla and Ronon pulling Rodney back away from the DHD, holding him in place while he continued to shout his objections, and various comments about John’s lineage. He ignored that, focusing instead on what he needed to do. He felt the draw of the Ancient tech mixed with the draw of the Quickening. Taking a deep breath, he made his move. The pain arced through him for only a moment, and then there was blessed black.
When he awoke with a gasp, he was laying flat out, his head pillowed on something that felt like a field pack. His muscles ached, and not just in that little post-workout kind of way. No, this much more of a screaming in agony kind of way, complete with random tremors and pounding headache that made him really thankful of his healing abilities.
Actually, thinking about that, it kind of worried him. He was an Immortal. He healed. Why the hell wasn’t he healing? He turned head slightly from side to side, trying to find where he could both hear and feel the presence of his friends. Blinking his eyes open, the random colors started to resolve themselves into the familiar blurs of his teammates. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a low moan.
A cool hand pressed against his heated skin. Blinking again, the blur became distinctively Teyla shaped. “Shh,” she soothed, smoothing back his hair. “Do not try to move yet, you are not fully healed,” she directed.
“Water?” he tried. It came out in a croak, but he thought he got his point across.
“In a moment,” she promised. “Let the Quickening do its work, and you can have some when you are ready to sit up.” She pressed her lips to his forehead and sat back up, still steadily running her fingers through his hair.
He nodded, figuring it was sound advice. He also figured, given the way he felt, that it might be a while before he got that canteen. He let his eyes drift close and concentrated on the feeling of skin pulling itself back together, of bones knitting themselves whole. He felt Ronon's quiet strength at his right and Rodney's warmth at his left, which told him it had worked, his friends were alive and safe, and that's all that really mattered. He had no idea if the gate was still in one piece, but he figured he’d take what he could at this point. The important things were covered, so he could let himself rest.
“He okay?” he heard Rodney ask, felt him shift at his side.
“He will be fine,” Teyla assured him.
“Good, because that was incredibly stupid,” McKay huffed.
“Saved us,” Ronon pointed out.
“And nearly killed himself,” Rodney countered.
“But I didn’t,” he chimed in.
“Not this time,” his Watcher muttered. Louder now, he said, “Okay, where was I?”
“Explaining why we are to tell Elizabeth that the group of Eternals were Wraith worshippers,” Teyla reminded him. That was a good thing. If they were worried about telling Elizabeth, it meant there was a good chance they would see her again, which meant there was a good chance the gate was still functional. His day was looking up. Relatively speaking, that was.
“Oh yeah,” Rodney said. There was the sound of munching and the crinkle of a wrapper, followed by a paper-like tickle next to John’s hand. He twitched it away. “If we say that, she won’t send another team back to try to negotiate.”
“But we could use some of the fruit produced on that world,” Teyla pointed out.
“There’s fruit on other planets,” Rodney countered. “Do you really want to risk them finding out about Immortals, about Sheppard and Ronon, and shipping them off to be experimented on? I’d say they’re worth more than a bushel of apples.”
“I know you have explained it before, but I still do not understand why the Eternals must hide on your planet. There are prejudices here, but not so much as to risk the lives of those who protect entire villages,” Teyla mused. It was an old argument, but one that had yet to be resolved. It made less sense to her than it did to John, and he lived through it.
“Their planet is weird,” Ronon summed it up for her.
“You got that right,” Rodney agreed. “Hey, did I tell you just how much trouble getting Sheppard to join the expedition was?”
“Leaving one’s homeworld is always a difficult choice,” Teyla considered. She always sounded so logical to John, whether discussing trade agreements, season weather patterns, or Immortals and interplanetary travel.
“Well, there’s that, mixed with not knowing how the Immortality would work away from Earth and the Milky Way,” Rodney was telling her. She made a questioning noise as if this was something she had never thought to wonder about amongst the people of her own galaxy, and he explained, “Most supposed Immortals the SGC had run into on other planets were either Goa’ulded mortals or mortals playing around with technology to lengthen their lives. I’m talking about getting John, one of our kind of Immortals, from Earth to the Pegasus galaxy though.”
“What do you mean?”
Rodney sighed dramatically. “A modern U.S. soldier carrying around a sword? It's not as obvious or out of place with most Pegasus level tech, but in our world of guns and rocket launchers, they tend to stand out. Even the short ones barely fit into a field pack. You don’t even want to know how hard it was to smuggle a couple of blades along with the original expedition. O’Neill and I had to promise I would find a way of forging them myself if they were confiscated for any reason.”
John smiled at the memory; he really did not think he was being unreasonable at the time.
“Yeah, laugh it up,” Rodney snapped without heat, patting his broken arm for the briefest of moments before realizing what he was doing. “You’re not the one who had to hide them from Sumner and Weir.” There was the sound of a canteen cap, followed by the sloshing of water as his friend took a drink. It reminded him of his own thirst, and made him wonder how much longer it would be before he got a drink. “So, anyway...” Rodney started up again, moving on to five tangents before he got to his point once more.
John let the sound of his voice lull him, floating in a haze of pain and healing, feeling his body become whole once more. He had no idea how long it took, and he really did not care. Occasionally, Rodney's hyper tones were interrupted by Teyla's calmer ones, or Ronon's deeper timbre. There were the quiet beeps of Rodney's computer tablet mixed with the scratch of the strange, pen-like quill thing Teyla preferred to use on her leather-bound parchment, and the familiar scrape of stone against metal as Ronon sharpened his blades.
It was comforting, though he wasn't sure if he ever wanted to admit that to them. Of course, knowing them, they knew it already. The three of them seemed to know more about him than any one person had in his many centuries of life, and he trusted them with that knowledge completely. In turn, they trusted him with their own secrets; a sacred confidence he was not stupid enough to break. All in all, it was pretty cool.
At the end of the day, it didn't matter what planet they ended up on, or even what galaxy they happened to be traveling through. They were together, they were safe, and they were mostly whole and really, that was all he could ask for.
Before he could get too sappy, even with himself, he opened his eyes and pushed himself up onto his elbows. He looked over at the setting sun, watching as it both lit faces and cast shadows across the four of them and asked, “So, about that beer?”
End.
~~~~~~~~~~
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