(no subject)
"'Push her out of an airlock?'" Rodney sneers at Ellis, trying hard for derision, but he just sounds tired.
He doesn't even bother looking up from where he's working on his datapad, its cover off and its innards exposed. Fran trashed it, smashed it to the deck when she caught him trying to hack back into the ship's computer, and gave Rodney the bruise that's darkening over one cheekbone.
Rodney's been trying to fix it ever since, but John doesn't think he's gotten very far. It's slow going, gently teasing out the parts with the fingers of his one good hand. He needed help getting the cover of the datapad off, and John can tell that his lack of dexterity is making him pissy.
"Fran controls the ship," John says quietly. "We can't open an airlock in the first place."
"And we're just going to sit here and take it? McKay?" Ellis sounds stricken, like a kid being told Christmas is cancelled. He'd finally joined the fold of the McKay faithful after the destruction of Asuras, but their current situation is obviously testing his conversion.
Rodney doesn't look up from his work. "Busy here, in case you didn't notice."
"She threatened you, Colonel Ellis," Teyla says stiffly. John can tell that she's not taking kindly to Ellis' implication that they're slacking. "She broke Rodney's computer, and then threatened your crew to secure our good behavior. As a show of her intent, she began venting atmosphere in that section of the ship."
Ellis' eyes widen. "My engineer mentioned something about the environmentals being unreliable, but..." He shakes his head, his expression going bleak.
"Too bad shooting her is a big waste of ammo." Ronon sounds disgusted and maybe a little too tempted by the thought.
"Easy, big guy," John warns. He reaches up to touch his throat gingerly. "That'll just piss her off. We don't want her hurting anyone."
"Anyone else, you mean." Rodney's cradling his arm, but his eyes are on John, and it's a mediocre stab at his usual bickering tone. He's staring over at John, but he's not meeting John's eyes. His gaze is aimed lower, and John realizes Rodney's watching him map out the damage that Fran's grip left on his throat. It's probably bruising up nicely by now, and he pulls his hand away, feeling self-conscious.
Rodney blinks a few times, looking strangely vulnerable, and then shrugs. He nods down at the datapad. "This is going to take me forever," he sighs.
Ellis frowns, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "I don't like this--" He cuts himself off abruptly, his head snapping up.
Rodney's about to say something, but John motions him silent. He feels it, too, the faintest of shudders, almost subliminal, something only a pilot would notice, or a ship's captain.
Elizabeth, he thinks, and the stab in his gut ambushes him, rage and guilt mixed together, at her for dying in the first place, at himself for failing her, at Keller and Rodney for setting the whole nanite train to hell in motion. Fuck. He can feel his teeth clenching and barely manages not to say the word aloud.
"Time's up." He's going for cool, but he doubts anybody on his team is fooled. "We just matched airlocks with someone. She's here."
***
Fran comes to round them up, backed by a group of blank-faced Replicators, who strip them of their weapons. "Your presence was not requested," she says to Ellis. John swears there's a trace of malice in her expression, and he can't decide which is creepier, the standard Replicator Vulcan thing, or Fran's emulation of human emotion.
Fran stares at Ellis, her eyes narrow in calculation, and Ellis stiffens. "But perhaps you'll prove useful," she says.
Ellis raises an eyebrow at her, but otherwise doesn't respond. He has to know that his "use" is as a hostage for the team's obedience, and he looks no happier about that than he's been about anything in this whole damn clusterfuck. He gives Fran a clipped nod, his chin set in a stubborn line that reminds John a little of Rodney.
They're being marched towards the airlock when Teyla whispers, "Are you well, John?" and he realizes how slowly he's walking.
"I'm fine." He's lying through his teeth, and he doubts she's buying it. "You?" he asks, because the serenity she wears like armor is looking brittle.
She looks away for a moment. "No worse than you, I believe."
Ronon snorts, and Rodney decides to join in, so softly John can barely hear him. "We're going to die. I brought her back from the dead, and oh, god, this is all my fault. I should never, we should never, but she looked so--"
"Yeah, Rodney, everything's your fault," John says, cutting off the babble. "We'd never screw up anything without you. You're the source of all evil in this galaxy. Well, you and the Wraith. Mostly you, though." He can feel his eyebrow going up ironically, and he makes sure to look Rodney right in the eyes, Easy, easy, I got you, buddy.
Ellis seems taken aback by John's words, although Rodney just looks startled. He stares right back, his eyes wide. It's always been a rush, getting the full weight of Rodney's attention, and it's no different now, like basking in warm sun. And John has no idea what's cranking away in Rodney's giant brain, but it's reassuringly normal, just part of the job, to keep Rodney on track.
"Not comforting," Rodney says weakly, but the expression on his face says that it is.
They've stopped in the middle of the corridor, which earns them a shove from one of the Replicators. Ronon bares his teeth at them, but they seem unimpressed.
Another shove, and "Easy with the merchandise," John says, which at least drags a nervous laugh out of Rodney.
"No more dawdling," Fran says in a cold voice. "She is waiting."
***
John's been trying to prepare himself, but it's still a shock when they step onto the darkened bridge. She's sitting at the captain's station, dressed in something that looks like her old uniform, only darker and shinier, and John flashes nonsensically on evil Kirk and goatees.
It's Elizabeth's face, thin and pale over her dark clothing, her calm gaze. Her expression is achingly familiar, the amused half smile from every briefing that morphed into the John-and-Rodney show.
"Good. You're here," she says with a smile. Casual, just like they've dropped by her office, and the utter wrongness of it makes John's head hurt. "And Colonel Ellis, as well. Welcome aboard."
Ellis keeps silent and stares at her, looking a little queasy.
"What do you want?" John asks, his tone flat and dangerous. An arm brushes his. It's Rodney's he sees when he glances over. Teyla has moved to his other flank, and he realizes they've fallen into a defensive formation without a thought, with Ellis in the center.
"Such hostility." Weir's looking at Teyla, but if she's looking for a friendly face, she doesn't find one.
"We are here against our will," Teyla says coldly. "Hostility would seem to be a natural consequence."
Their response seems to throw her. Her focus turns inward, and her face goes completely blank for a moment. Like a light flickering or a computer reboot, expression returns to her face, but now it's an apologetic smile.
"I just wanted the chance to see you all again. To talk," she says.
"Well, you've seen us, and we've talked," Rodney says a little too quickly. He's putting on a brave front, but John hopes she's missing the unsteadiness in his voice. "Old home week's over, so you can just send us on our way. Things to do back home, busy, busy."
Weir laughs, carefree and light, and it'd be pretty damn convincing if John hadn't just witnessed her slip. This is all surface; there's a thing wearing their friend's face, and he better not forget it for a moment.
"I've missed you, Rodney," she says fondly. "Impatient as always. Did you think I'd let you go so quickly, the man who saved my life?"
Rodney takes a jerky step back at that, nearly stomping on John's foot. John drops a supportive hand onto the small of Rodney's back, making sure the gesture is hidden from Weir's view.
"Leave him be," John says harshly. "Just tell us what you want."
Fran's been a silent onlooker so far, but she speaks up now. "Don't be so hard on our Dr. Weir," she says. "She gets so few chances to play the human now."
The crosscurrent of antagonism reminds John that their Asuran enemy has never been a monolithic one. It looks like it's no different now. Factions and in-fighting and he wonders if they can use any of it to their advantage.
"She's after the Spirat," Fran adds impatiently. She frowns when they all turn blank faces towards her. "The Spirat, the Relic."
"Enough," Weir snaps, and Fran wilts before the unmistakable threat in her voice. She takes a careful step back, her head bowed. Weir's hand moves, sketches a gesture that's both graceful and utterly foreign. It's full of meaning to the Replicators though, and the tension on the bridge eases.
"What is she talking about?" Ellis' voice is pitched low, just for John and the team. John can only shrug, but Weir's hearing isn't limited by human physiology anymore. She turns to look at them, but doesn't immediately say anything.
Her smile goes remote, like she's staring through them. John has to fight the urge to recoil from just how alien she looks in that moment.
"Second chances," Weir says finally. "Everyone deserves a second chance, don't you think? Atlantis was yours, Colonel Sheppard. I gave you that chance. Do I deserve no less?"
"You're not coming back to Atlantis." Ronon widens his stance, like he's getting ready to kick heads.
Teyla takes in a sharp breath, her eyes widening. "That's not her goal, Ronon. Is it, Dr. Weir? You are far too comfortable in that chair to wish to leave it."
"The table," Rodney blurts. "The table I used to make Fran. In the database, it was called--"
"The Spirat," Weir finishes for him, her eyes bright. "You thought you were creating a weaker form of Replicator in Fran, but really you just made a more versatile one. The first of a new breed, Dr. McKay, free of the twisted obsessions that hampered the Asurans. We will build a new society, the dawn of a new age of Replicator."
The silence that greets her is so complete that Rodney's audible swallow sounds thunderous.
***
Weir puts up with a lot of stalling before her patience ends.
Whenever she was about to lose it, the old Elizabeth was all quiet and false calm, a subtle eye twitch as the only tell of her true state of mind. This perverted Replicator version of her is blandly chiding and pleasant until suddenly she goes blank and then not very pleasant at all.
John's ribs are throbbing from a couple of Replicator-strong shoves, and he's almost relieved when she herds them down to a set of cells that look a lot like the ones on the Aurora.
"I was wondering when this part of the entertainment would start," Rodney says. "Kind of predictable, really."
"Silence." Fran pushes him towards the largest of the cells. "In there. All of you."
John's stomach clenches when their escorts follow them into the cell.
"John," Weir says, giving them a sad-eyed look. "Teyla. You know me. I really don't want this to be unpleasant, but you are forcing my hand."
She waits a beat, and slowly nods when she gets no response. As the silence stretches out, she turns with preternatural speed to thrust her fingers into Ellis' forehead.
"No, don't," John blurts, shocked in spite of himself.
It's far from the worst thing John's ever seen. That's what he tells himself anyway. There's no blood or gore, but he knows first-hand just how awful it is.
Invisible, but it's real, and worse than being shot. Because it messes with his head, shakes his sense of self. Like rape. The thought floats in from nowhere, but John squashes it before it's fully formed, just like he always does.
Ellis puts up a valiant fight, snarling, his lips pulling back, but it's no use. She soon forces him to his knees, and his eyes close. It doesn't look painful from this side, but John knows all about appearances and deception.
It's Teyla who breaks first, but only because she beats John to the punch. "Stop this," she says, almost a shout, and John can't remember the last time he's heard Teyla raise her voice. "Dr. Weir. Stop, please."
Weir looks over at them, one eyebrow going up quizzically, but leaves her hand where it is.
"We'll give you the table, okay?" John says. He looks over at Rodney and Ronon. Rodney is wide-eyed, while Ronon is tense beneath a deceptively sleepy surface, but John knows agreement when he sees it. "You can have your Spirograph or whatever the hell it is, but just leave him alone."
Weir nods. Her hand pulls back, and Ellis slides to the deck, out cold.
John sighs in relief-- and then realizes it's not going to be anywhere that easy when Weir turns in his direction, her hand thrust forward. Oh, crap.
It's been a while since John's had a Replicator getting intimate with his cranium, but he could've happily gone the rest of his life without a repeat performance. He must have blanked out the worst of it, because this is way worse than he remembers.
You were lying, Colonel Sheppard. You have no intention of giving us what we need. Weir's mental voice sounds betrayed, of all things. As if she'd really expected them to want to help her, yeah, take the table, no problem, build your evil empire, knock yourself out.
There's no false reality to cushion the experience this time, just his knees grinding into the deck and Weir in his head, laying him bare, slicing him open memory by memory.
Teyla with her new son. Wincing as Keller stitches him up. Talking shop on a balcony with Carter. Then Ellis is complaining about something, and Rodney's saying, "He's such a tool."
And once he starts on Rodney, he can't seem to stop.
Rodney's voice, sloppy drunk during the marriage proposal postmortem, "It was nice, you know. Just having someone there."
Stop it, John thinks, oh, shit. But he's piqued Weir's interest and she digs deeper, like a cat torturing prey, enjoying his struggle.
He can't stop the memory from spooling out for Weir's amusement.
"I'll be alone my whole damn life." Laced through Rodney's slurred voice is real pain, which drags a response from John.
"You don't have to be alone, idiot," he says, too careless on ruus wine with its damn kick. "I'm right here, Rodney." There's affection and something more in his voice. He's burning up with it and scared out of his mind.
But when he looks over, it's to see Rodney snoring away, dead to the world.
"Intriguing," Weir says, aloud this time, and she sounds like Rodney faced with a new piece of Ancient tech.
But at least he can finally think straight again, alone in his head. He's on his hands and knees on the deck, trying not to throw up.
"Sheppard, you all right?" Ronon's got two Replicators practically sitting on him, and he sounds like he's about to explode.
John manages a weak wave, still swallowing bile.
A strangled moan brings his head over in time to see Rodney sliding to the floor. "Rodney," he gasps, but his arms and legs just kind of twitch when he tries to move to Rodney's side.
Fran's standing over him, her hand a flattened knife still pointing at his head. She's staring down at Rodney, her head tilted in what looks like confusion.
"Rodney?" Fran says, a weird shimmer flickering over her face.
And that's when all hell breaks loose.
John feels it through his palms and knees, and then hears a metallic shriek. The ship is shuddering around them, and Weir's head snaps up.
"They what?" she says to the air, communicating with the bridge, John assumes.
Another hard jolt nearly sends Weir to her knees, and her expression goes hard. "We're coming." She sends Ellis an assessing look. "Enjoy your incarceration." The other Replicators obediently fall in behind her as she leaves, and the cell door shuts behind them without a clang, well-oiled.
At least Replicator cell maintenance is better than, say, the Genii's, John thinks with a soundless laugh. And it's not even funny that he's managed to become something of a connoisseur on the whole thing.
"That was so not right," Ellis says hollowly from the deck, and John can only nod.
Ronon hauls John up off the deck, and then does the same for Rodney. "Easy, McKay." He's trying to steady him on his feet, when another shudder nearly takes them out again.
"What is happening?" Teyla asks. She's looking pale and shaky, but she at least managed to stay on her feet, so she's got John beat.
Ellis has a weird look on his face, pride and suppressed panic all mixed together.
"Maybe Colonel Ellis can enlighten us," John drawls, cocking his head expectantly. "I thought you didn't want them doing anything stupid?"
He's a little annoyed at himself; although he had known that Ellis' people were getting antsy, he still hadn't expected much to come of it. After all, they didn't have Rodney, the fastest brain in two galaxies. But maybe he'd underestimated them.
"I know my crew. They're not stupid, Colonel," Ellis sneers, and the instant defense of his crew deflates most of John's anger.
"Did you really think they were going to take this crap lying down?" Ellis adds, his jaw tight, but any further explanation is cut short.
Rodney's lurched over to the cell door, shoving his good arm through the bars awkwardly. "Ow," he says as he tries to make his arm bend in a way it's not supposed to.
"McKay, what are you doing?" Ellis is leaning on Teyla, but at least he's upright and able to move if they need to.
"Keypad," John answers for him. To Rodney he adds, "There's thousands of combinations, Rodney. It'll take forever to try them all."
"I...know that," Rodney says, his breathing labored as he mashes himself against the bars to get more reach. A long stretch of silence is broken only by Rodney's heavy breathing and sounds of frustration.
And then, click, the door is opening, and Rodney's grinning at them a little manically. "But it only takes a second if you know the code."
There's a beat of stunned silence and then, Ellis says, "Damn straight. He did it. Again." His smile is weak but genuine, and it looks like he's returned to the McKay fold. He presses them towards the door eagerly.
"Good going, Rodney," John says with genuine feeling as he follows him out of the cell. "If they're going to steal thoughts right out of your head, you steal stuff right back."
John stops, distracted because Rodney's shaking his head, frowning. "What's wrong, Rodney?"
"I don't think I stole anything," Rodney says, staring firmly at Ronon's back. He's disconcerted; John can see it in the tilt of his mouth. "I think Fran gave it to me."
"Huh," John says. He's about to say more, but Teyla catches his attention.
"It's clear," she says, peering up and down the corridor. "Try the airlock?"
"The airlock," he confirms and then nods at her to take point. She leads them out into the corridor, her eyes narrowed in concentration. The back of John's neck itches at just how exposed they'll be, but at least Teyla's got hearing like a bat and her reaction time puts even Ronon to shame.
John gestures a shh at Ellis, a finger over his lips. He figures Ellis' combat experience has been mostly from the bridge of a ship; it's doubtful he's brushed up on his Stealth 101 skills lately. Ellis rolls his eyes a little, but nods.
They creep through mostly deserted corridors, hugging bulkheads, soft-footed. Every intersection is an exercise in fraying nerves, check, double-check. The Replicators are few and far between, but it'd only take one to send everything crashing down around their ears.
It doesn't help that just staying upright is no easy trick. The ship's bucking like a bronco, heaving and diving too suddenly for the inertial dampeners to keep up. It feels like combat maneuvers, but John's trying not to get his hopes up as to who's winning this fight.
They're in a sheltered alcove, waiting for the corridor ahead of them to clear, when Ellis finally spills the rest of the story. "She did it," he whispers, and John can hear the pleased smirk in his voice.
"'She'?" John pretty sure he already knows the answer to his question, but he lifts an eyebrow anyway.
"My chief engineer. Lopez," Ellis says. "She was trying to figure out a way to take control of the ship at the subsystem level. Bypass the ship's computer entirely, and then you don't have to worry about Fran's computer lock."
"Wait, what?" Rodney's sputtering, waving his good hand at Ellis. "That's crazy; without the computer, she'll have only the most rudimentary control over the ship."
Then he goes thoughtful, nodding his head. "I've watched her figure out Ancient tech workarounds as fast as Zelenka; I think not having the gene forces them to be creative. Not bad," he adds, but then he swings back to annoyed. "But you didn't think to inform us as to this little plan of yours?"
"Good question," Ronon says, looming over Ellis with intent.
"Hand in the forehead ring any bells?" Ellis says tightly, tapping his own forehead for emphasis. "After the initial report, I told her to keep me in the dark as much as possible. I read your Replicator assessment, Colonel. I'm not stupid."
"We should move again," Teyla says. She's been keeping watch on the corridor ahead of them.
The deck drops beneath their feet just then, the worst one yet. Rodney nearly goes down, saved only by John's fast reflexes. They end up in each other's space, pressed together more intimately than John had intended, but he takes a moment to enjoy the heat and familiar bulk of Rodney at close proximity.
"Thanks," Rodney mutters after a beat, sounding flustered. He doesn't pull away, rubbing gingerly at his bad shoulder. "You know, if we're feeling this much movement, there's a more than even chance--"
"That the airlock's already gone," John finishes for him. "Damn."
"Colonel Sheppard is correct," says Fran.
"Shit," John blurts. His fingers close on an empty holster, but even with his sidearm, it's not like a bullet would have harmed her, anyway.
One minute nothing, the next she's right in the midst of them, and John wonders if she used some special Replicator powers to move so fast. She's easily holding up a struggling Teyla with one hand, and John knows Fran must have used some freaky super speed and strength to get the drop on Teyla.
"Be still, Teyla Emmagan," Fran says, holding Teyla up off the deck with no hint of strain in her voice. "I do not wish to harm you."
Teyla goes still. "Put me down." The flat tone doesn't fool John; she's in a dangerous mood. She's a little more subtle about it than Ronon would be, but she hates it when she loses a fight. The look she gives Fran is scary enough that John almost takes a step back.
Fran sets Teyla onto her feet again. She seems confused by Teyla's death glare, shooting Rodney a look of such doe-eyed innocence that it makes John's teeth hurt. "I gave Dr. McKay the code. I am trying to help you. To help my maker."
"Fran?" Rodney says. "My Fran?" He sounds eager and hopeful, his eyes wide, and John can't help the bitter rush that flashes through him. "I thought I'd killed--I mean I thought we had erased you."
Rodney's slip is telling, and John frowns. It deepens when Fran shakes her head and smiles at Rodney, as eager as a puppy trying to please.
"Merely weakened me. It allowed my counterpart to take control for a while, but I was always in the background, sharing this body."
Rodney's mouth quirks. "Been there, done that," he says, smiling happily back at her, and it's too bad Hallmark doesn't make a card for someone having a damn reunion with his homicidal femmebot.
"When we touched your mind, I..." Fran hesitates, tilting her head to one side, searching for words. She tries again, "She hurt you. I am not programmed to feel pain. But when she hurt you, I felt something strange. Something wrong." She touches her chest tentatively. "Here. It was...pain, I know that somehow. I felt your pain as if it were my own."
Don't say it, don't say it, just don't go there. The thought spins inside John's head, a hamster on a wheel.
"Dr. McKay." She goes silent, and her hand reaches out towards Rodney. "Rodney."
John bristles, moving between them. "Stop right there," he warns, shooting her a hard glance.
"John, what's wrong?" Rodney says. When John looks over, it's to see him swiveling his gaze between the two of them, tennis match style. He seems genuinely confused, out of step with the currents that are swirling around him.
As clueless as always, John thinks with a rush of sudden protectiveness, fiercely glad of Rodney's emotional backwardness.
"Nothing's wrong," John says. "Is it, Fran?"
John glances over at Rodney, who's smiling at Fran, his expression kind but a little bewildered.
Fran snatches her hand back and looks down at the deck for a moment. Her eyes seem a little lost when she glances back up at them.
She directs her words at Rodney alone. "I could tell she was hurting you. That was not...acceptable. Never." Her voice catches at the end.
Ambushed by emotion. John can't help the thought, or the unnerving sense of familiarity that washes in with it: Kinda sucks, doesn't it? He shifts his weight, not particularly pleased that he's got something in common with a Replicator. He shakes his head irritably.
Fran closes her eyes for a long moment, then says, "I could not stand by. I fought my way to the surface once more."
"Anyway," John says sharply, and he drops a hand casually onto Rodney's back. He's the recipient of Fran's eerie stare then, curious, almost bird-like. Sad. And he's still stubbornly trying to convince himself that her eyes are black and dead as a doll's, but the emotion looks just as real as the rest of her.
John swallows. "If the airlock's gone, what's the plan?"
"There are lifeboats," Fran says quietly, after a pause. "They're not far from here."
"No way. We'll get shot out of the sky." Ronon's rumble sounds skeptical, and Teyla looks mutinous.
Ellis' expression isn't much better. "My crew." He sounds downright desperate; it's got to be killing him that they're facing this without him, to not know. "We have to do something about Weir first."
Rodney grimaces in sympathy. "Jury-rigged controls, no nav computer--they'll be sitting ducks in any kind of fight. Ellis is right. We've got to trip Weir up somehow, sabotage her defense systems or something."
Fran hesitates, and John doesn't think he's imagining the reluctance in her eyes. It's as if she hadn't allowed herself to think of anything beyond saving Rodney from being hurt, beyond getting them away from Weir. Hadn't let herself think of her own actions as betrayal.
John takes advantage of the moment, gesturing at Ellis. "Teyla, Ronon, you get him to those lifeboats. Ellis, you think you can fly one of 'em?"
"Of course," Ellis says, managing to sound insulted and cocky at the same time.
To Teyla and Ronon, John adds, "You guys get back to Fran's ship." Two glowers are trained on him, and he rushes to add, "Rodney and I'll catch up, I promise, soon as we can."
"We will come with you. There is safety in numbers," Teyla protests, her eyes dark with worry.
John shakes his head. "I need you to get Ellis back to his crew. And it's easier to sneak around with fewer boots." He glances at Rodney: he's white around the eyes, barely suppressed panic in his posture, but he's nodding. It's business as usual, in other words, and John catches his eye. We can do this, buddy.
Rodney takes a breath and turns to Teyla. "We'll be okay." He doesn't sound entirely confident, but he's got his stubborn face on. "Go, go, go," he says impatiently, wincing when his bad arm tries to get in on his shooing gesture.
Ronon doesn't say anything, but his level stare is a little threatening. Come back safe or else, and John nods.
While Fran is giving Teyla directions to the lifeboat bay, John eases close to Rodney. "What's the plan?" he whispers, his lips brushing Rodney's ear.
Rodney's breath catches audibly, and John's close enough that he can feel Rodney shiver. After a pause, Rodney whispers back, "Get to engineering. Hack into the computer."
Rodney glances at Fran, and John waits until Rodney's eyes are on him again. "Can't trust her," John warns. He mouths the words, wary of her Replicator hearing.
"Duh, genius," Rodney says, rolling his eyes.
John feels himself relax, just a little, and then he tenses up all over again when Fran rejoins them.
"We need to get to engineering," he hears Rodney say to Fran, but he doesn't take his eyes off Teyla and Ronon. He keeps watching until they disappear around a corner, trying not to wonder if this is the last time he'll ever see them.
***
Part 3