Fic: 'Strays", SGA / Lost crossover, Gen
Title: Strays
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis / Lost crossover
Characters: John, Rodney, Richard Alpert, Miles Straume, James Ford, Frank Lapidus (no pairing)
Word count/rating: 1260 words, G
Summary: Once the Wraith are finished with Earth, it does look like the Apocalypse happened.
A/N: made for stargateland for the cockamamie crossover challenge with the prompt "Post-Apocalypse" and the fandom "Lost".
Okay, so it's even more depressing than Rodney thought it would be. Most houses seem to have caught on fire at some point, the cars are wrecked and there is trash everywhere. It does get a little better when they reach the outskirts of the city, but not by much. The problem is that there is nothing to say, especially not to John who is sitting rigidly at the controls of the puddlejumper and looks brittle enough to break any second. It's the only reason Rodney volunteered for this outing: he's worried that John is about to snap. Predictably John is shouldering unnecessary guilt, sure that it's his fault that a Wraith armada showed up five days after they thought they had saved the day and landed on the San Francisco Bay.
It had been, without much exaggeration, a slaughter. Some religious freaks had even dubbed it The Apocalypse, and Rodney didn't quite know how to argue with that. The Wraith had came, culled and destroyed. Fortunately, Atlantis hadn't been hit too badly and Rodney's team is almost done fixing her enough that she'll fly again. They are hoping to leave soon, but if it will be to try to protect other worlds of the Milky Way from the Wraiths or to go back to Pegasus, that is still unclear.
"There are four life signs about a mile East."
Rodney almost jumps out of his skin, surprised by John's voice. He doesn't talk much anymore.
"Let's go, then. Isn't it why we're flying around?" Rodney asks.
Officially, they've been told to remain on Atlantis, but John clearly needs to feel useful and would have came out alone if Rodney hadn't insisted he wanted to go, too. The Army has canvassed the city and it's supposed to be completely evacuated - people brought to government-operated survivor centers - but everyone knows that some nut jobs must have stayed behind and John wants to be sure they are okay, relatively speaking.
The four life signs turn out to be four guys sitting on the porch of a house that has obviously seen better days but still holds the aura of class and old money. The men look casual in ways Rodney hasn't seen since before the Wraiths, and the blond even has long legs crossed at the ankles and propped on the porch's forged iron banister. By the time John lands the jumper on the front lawn and they get out the hatch, the men haven't moved but four rifles are now pointed at them. Rodney immediately raises his hands and just as instinctively John moves to get in between him and the guns. For some reason, it pisses Rodney off and he uses his conveniently raised hand to slap him behind the head.
"Ow!" John glares at him.
"Oh, come on. You still aren't bulletproof and I have no desire to see you die today, thank you very much. I can take a bullet like a big boy. Not that the nice men will shoot, right?" Rodney raises his voice so that last part carries to the porch.
"Depends," the shortest of the four says, Asian by the look of it. "Should we?"
"Shooting first worked for me lately," the blond adds, as if he's seriously considering doing just that.
"I'm Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, US Air Force, and this is Doctor Rodney McKay. We just want to check if you are okay."
Rodney knows that behind the calm words, John is itching to get to his gun, too.
"We're just peachy," the man with blue eyes and wild gray and white hair says. "No one tried to eat us today. Yet. You hungry?"
The fourth man lowers his gun and makes placating gestures, half to them and half to his buddies.
"Please, don't mind my friends. We've been kind of on edge with everything that happened. My name is Richard Alpert, and this is Frank Lapidus, Miles Straume and James Ford."
"Why didn't you evacuate?" Rodney asks. "The centers aren't the Ritz, but you'd have power, hot water, food..."
"Believe me, we've known worst than this," the guy named Miles says, gesturing to the house behind him.
"And we kinda like the quiet, so no thanks," James says. "That's one ugly ship you fly, Spikey."
"Hey!" John says, putting his hands on his hips. "No dissing the jumper. And I'll have you know I pilot it with my mind, so shut it."
"Really?" Frank perks up. He has lowered his gun, too. The only one still aiming casually is Miles, though Rodney is pretty sure that it would not take a second that Ford would blow their heads off, rifle now laying on his legs.
"Man, I miss flying," Frank adds, looking forlorn.
It makes John tilt his head; Rodney is relieved to see something else than guilt, anger or frustration on his face.
"We are looking for pilots," John declares and Rodney rolls his eyes.
"Tell me you're not serious?" But John, unfortunately, looks deadly serious. "Oh my god, you are. This is... we are not bringing home strays, John!"
Frank laughs and he's coming down the steps, with the Richard guy - who has incredibly distracting eyelashes - in tow.
"I've never seen anything like this," Richard says, and John lets them approach the jumper. He's always been proud of his babies.
"I have to disagree with my redneck friend: this is a sweet ride," Frank says and... wow, is that the hint of a smile on John's face?
"You bet it is," he declares, and even waves so Frank has a look inside.
When Frank sits down in the pilot chair and the hull lights up brightly - making Richard freeze for a second - Frank's reaction is to whistle his appreciation.
"You weren't kidding with the mind thing, huh?"
"No, I was not," John says with a real smile, thank god, and he's making puppy eyes at Rodney now.
He's seen that expression years ago when they met Ronon, the 'please please, can I keep him?' evident for everyone to see. And how is Rodney supposed to be the voice of reason when John looks like that? Frank seems to have a super strong gene and that would definitely be useful to pilot jumpers and maybe even Atlantis.
As if Rodney's life is not complicated enough, the other two enter the jumper, looking curious now even though they brought in the rifles.
"What is this thing?" Miles asks.
"What does it look like?" Rodney opens his arms wide, inviting him to take a guess. Sometimes people ask the stupidest questions. "It's an alien space ship, that's what it is."
"Okay," James says with a disabused shrug. "Let's add this to the list of weird shit I've seen in my life."
Miles nods his approval.
"Beats ugly-ass hand sucking vampires and smoke monsters."
"Can I take her up?" Frank is asking John.
"Sure," he says as he closes the rear hatch and sits down in the shotgun seat. "Everyone takes a seat!"
"Fantastic." Rodney mutters as he flops in the chair behind his usual. "Hey, I have an idea! Why not offer guided tours in the jumpers to perfect strangers! It's not like we have things to do and places to be!"
"Shut up, Rodney. That's not how you make new friends," John mocks.
He's looking better than he has in weeks. If taking in four bozos is what makes it happen, so be it.
"Let's fly South South West, shall we? There's something I wanna show you."
Great. And now they're going to Atlantis. Rodney puts his hands over his face and sighs.
He's got a feeling they're going to take in strays after all.
The End
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis / Lost crossover
Characters: John, Rodney, Richard Alpert, Miles Straume, James Ford, Frank Lapidus (no pairing)
Word count/rating: 1260 words, G
Summary: Once the Wraith are finished with Earth, it does look like the Apocalypse happened.
A/N: made for stargateland for the cockamamie crossover challenge with the prompt "Post-Apocalypse" and the fandom "Lost".
Okay, so it's even more depressing than Rodney thought it would be. Most houses seem to have caught on fire at some point, the cars are wrecked and there is trash everywhere. It does get a little better when they reach the outskirts of the city, but not by much. The problem is that there is nothing to say, especially not to John who is sitting rigidly at the controls of the puddlejumper and looks brittle enough to break any second. It's the only reason Rodney volunteered for this outing: he's worried that John is about to snap. Predictably John is shouldering unnecessary guilt, sure that it's his fault that a Wraith armada showed up five days after they thought they had saved the day and landed on the San Francisco Bay.
It had been, without much exaggeration, a slaughter. Some religious freaks had even dubbed it The Apocalypse, and Rodney didn't quite know how to argue with that. The Wraith had came, culled and destroyed. Fortunately, Atlantis hadn't been hit too badly and Rodney's team is almost done fixing her enough that she'll fly again. They are hoping to leave soon, but if it will be to try to protect other worlds of the Milky Way from the Wraiths or to go back to Pegasus, that is still unclear.
"There are four life signs about a mile East."
Rodney almost jumps out of his skin, surprised by John's voice. He doesn't talk much anymore.
"Let's go, then. Isn't it why we're flying around?" Rodney asks.
Officially, they've been told to remain on Atlantis, but John clearly needs to feel useful and would have came out alone if Rodney hadn't insisted he wanted to go, too. The Army has canvassed the city and it's supposed to be completely evacuated - people brought to government-operated survivor centers - but everyone knows that some nut jobs must have stayed behind and John wants to be sure they are okay, relatively speaking.
The four life signs turn out to be four guys sitting on the porch of a house that has obviously seen better days but still holds the aura of class and old money. The men look casual in ways Rodney hasn't seen since before the Wraiths, and the blond even has long legs crossed at the ankles and propped on the porch's forged iron banister. By the time John lands the jumper on the front lawn and they get out the hatch, the men haven't moved but four rifles are now pointed at them. Rodney immediately raises his hands and just as instinctively John moves to get in between him and the guns. For some reason, it pisses Rodney off and he uses his conveniently raised hand to slap him behind the head.
"Ow!" John glares at him.
"Oh, come on. You still aren't bulletproof and I have no desire to see you die today, thank you very much. I can take a bullet like a big boy. Not that the nice men will shoot, right?" Rodney raises his voice so that last part carries to the porch.
"Depends," the shortest of the four says, Asian by the look of it. "Should we?"
"Shooting first worked for me lately," the blond adds, as if he's seriously considering doing just that.
"I'm Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, US Air Force, and this is Doctor Rodney McKay. We just want to check if you are okay."
Rodney knows that behind the calm words, John is itching to get to his gun, too.
"We're just peachy," the man with blue eyes and wild gray and white hair says. "No one tried to eat us today. Yet. You hungry?"
The fourth man lowers his gun and makes placating gestures, half to them and half to his buddies.
"Please, don't mind my friends. We've been kind of on edge with everything that happened. My name is Richard Alpert, and this is Frank Lapidus, Miles Straume and James Ford."
"Why didn't you evacuate?" Rodney asks. "The centers aren't the Ritz, but you'd have power, hot water, food..."
"Believe me, we've known worst than this," the guy named Miles says, gesturing to the house behind him.
"And we kinda like the quiet, so no thanks," James says. "That's one ugly ship you fly, Spikey."
"Hey!" John says, putting his hands on his hips. "No dissing the jumper. And I'll have you know I pilot it with my mind, so shut it."
"Really?" Frank perks up. He has lowered his gun, too. The only one still aiming casually is Miles, though Rodney is pretty sure that it would not take a second that Ford would blow their heads off, rifle now laying on his legs.
"Man, I miss flying," Frank adds, looking forlorn.
It makes John tilt his head; Rodney is relieved to see something else than guilt, anger or frustration on his face.
"We are looking for pilots," John declares and Rodney rolls his eyes.
"Tell me you're not serious?" But John, unfortunately, looks deadly serious. "Oh my god, you are. This is... we are not bringing home strays, John!"
Frank laughs and he's coming down the steps, with the Richard guy - who has incredibly distracting eyelashes - in tow.
"I've never seen anything like this," Richard says, and John lets them approach the jumper. He's always been proud of his babies.
"I have to disagree with my redneck friend: this is a sweet ride," Frank says and... wow, is that the hint of a smile on John's face?
"You bet it is," he declares, and even waves so Frank has a look inside.
When Frank sits down in the pilot chair and the hull lights up brightly - making Richard freeze for a second - Frank's reaction is to whistle his appreciation.
"You weren't kidding with the mind thing, huh?"
"No, I was not," John says with a real smile, thank god, and he's making puppy eyes at Rodney now.
He's seen that expression years ago when they met Ronon, the 'please please, can I keep him?' evident for everyone to see. And how is Rodney supposed to be the voice of reason when John looks like that? Frank seems to have a super strong gene and that would definitely be useful to pilot jumpers and maybe even Atlantis.
As if Rodney's life is not complicated enough, the other two enter the jumper, looking curious now even though they brought in the rifles.
"What is this thing?" Miles asks.
"What does it look like?" Rodney opens his arms wide, inviting him to take a guess. Sometimes people ask the stupidest questions. "It's an alien space ship, that's what it is."
"Okay," James says with a disabused shrug. "Let's add this to the list of weird shit I've seen in my life."
Miles nods his approval.
"Beats ugly-ass hand sucking vampires and smoke monsters."
"Can I take her up?" Frank is asking John.
"Sure," he says as he closes the rear hatch and sits down in the shotgun seat. "Everyone takes a seat!"
"Fantastic." Rodney mutters as he flops in the chair behind his usual. "Hey, I have an idea! Why not offer guided tours in the jumpers to perfect strangers! It's not like we have things to do and places to be!"
"Shut up, Rodney. That's not how you make new friends," John mocks.
He's looking better than he has in weeks. If taking in four bozos is what makes it happen, so be it.
"Let's fly South South West, shall we? There's something I wanna show you."
Great. And now they're going to Atlantis. Rodney puts his hands over his face and sighs.
He's got a feeling they're going to take in strays after all.
The End