The Seven Corporal Works of Mercy, by Kellifer_fic
Title: The Seven Corporal Works of Mercy
Author: kellifer_fic
Characters: Team
Rating: Mature themes
Challenge: Seven Deadly Sins
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Life is hard in the Pegasus Galaxy and doing the right thing... even harder.
- Feed the Hungry -
The first time John was actually fed from by a Wraith, it only lasted two seconds before Ronon and Teyla managed to pry the creature free but it was the worst two seconds of his life.
When Carson offered to explain just what it would mean in terms of shortened life span, John had held up a hand in a silent plea.
No, just… no.
The next morning, John noticed there were strands of grey at his temple while shaving and went to the daily briefing, fully expecting a snarky comment from McKay, something gentle yet probing from Teyla and probably a blunt but to the point, “Getting old there Sheppard,” from Ronon.
Nobody said a word about it.
That was much worse.
- Give drink to the thirsty -
“Eighty six bottles of beer on the wall-“
“Unless you actually have bottles of beer on your wall, I think we’d all appreciate you stopping right there,” Rodney groaned, looking across the cell at John, a hallway and two sets of bars separating them. The cell next to Rodney was occupied by Teyla and Ronon was in the next one down again.
It sounded like a civil war had broken out right after they’d been imprisoned and for two days no one had been back. They’d had a single canteen between them that Ronon had managed to smuggle in god knew how, but even very careful rationing meant they had had the last of it that morning.
“Sorry, poor choice of waiting music huh?” John asked sheepishly. Rodney glared, Ronon growled and Teyla thumped her forehead on the bars of her cell.
“Alrighty then. How about the ‘This Is The Song That Never Ends’ song?”
“You’re kidding, right?” Rodney demanded and John offered a wan smile.
“No, just trying to annoy Ronon enough that he’ll do a hulk and bust us out of here to make the singing stop.”
“Sometimes, we just have to wait to be rescued and have faith that the others are on their way,” Teyla said gently, knowing what was the real problem with John and therefore why he felt compelled to torment the rest of them.
“C’mon Ronon buddy, just try once for me. Think big, green and mean and bust us out.”
“Why green?” Ronon asked mildly. He’d rather been enjoying the beer song and wasn’t annoyed in the least.
“Just, humour a dying man alright?”
Ronon rolled his eyes, wrapped both hands around the bars at the front of his cell and gave them a small shake. There was a grinding sound and the whole front wall of his cell fell outwards, leaving Ronon with his hands up and blinking owlishly.
“Well… that was… unexpected,” John said.
- Give shelter to strangers -
John had explained Christmas to Teyla and she was delighted to take part, marvelling that there was a holiday devoted to giving and receiving gifts as well as being with the family. She listened patiently to Christmas stories, valiantly tried eggnog and allowed Rodney and John to tinsel her room to get into the spirit of things.
Now she was standing before Rodney, crossed arms and face hard, John and Ronon standing behind him, barely managing to cover their smirks.
“Why not?” Teyla demanded.
“How can you even ask that? Are you trying to kill me?”
Teyla leaned past Rodney and glared at John. “I expect you to participate as well. I am still finding tiny pieces of shiny plastic in my room from the overabundance of tinsel you both indulged in.”
John held up his hands. “Hey, I don’t mind at all.”
Teyla shifted back to Rodney. “You would have me embrace your tradition but you would make mockery of mine?”
“I’m not making mockery. I’m simply stating a scientific fact that if I participate, I’ll die.”
Teyla threw up her hands in frustration and stormed from the ‘gate room just as Elizabeth entered. Elizabeth watched her go and then turned back to the three male members of her team with a raised eyebrow. “What did you do this time?”
“Teyla wants us to join in on Dar’iai,” Ronon said, shrugging.
Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. “Isn’t that the festival where-“
“The Athosians fast for three days,” Rodney squeaked, looking appalled.
- Clothe the naked -
Rodney stopped at his belt buckle and sighed heavily.
“Can’t we just leave?”
John smirked, already shirtless and now leaning over to untie his boots and toe them off. “If we want to go without the Roash fruit they have that will possibly replace manufactured Tretonin for the Jaffa nation and thereby free an entire people dependant on having snakes in their belly for survival? Sure, we can leave Rodney.”
Rodney rolled his eyes. “No need to be facetious,” he grumbled.
“Oh there’s always a need.”
Ronon wandered past them, scratching at a very naked behind and then stepping into the mire of mud they were being directed to by the natives.
“What did Teyla have to do again?” Rodney asked, shrugging his shirt off as slowly as possible.
“Some kind of tea ceremony,” John offered, stepping out of his pants and then stretching languidly, completely at home in nothing but his undershorts in front of a large group of gathered natives who all cooed appreciatively.
“Oh this is so not fair,” Rodney sighed.
- Visit the sick -
Elizabeth clicked off her comms and dropped her head to the table, her shoulders slumping.
She felt sick inside.
A tentative hand on her shoulder made her look up and she smiled wanly at John, who perched on the edge of her desk, just like always.
“How are they doing?” he asked, his voice sounding hollow.
“Okay. None of them are presenting with symptoms yet, thank goodness, but it’s hard to explain why they can’t come back through the ‘gate and be quarantined here. They feel…”
“Abandoned?” John supplied.
“We can’t risk it. Fielding was in full hasmat and she got sick. We can’t…”
“I know.” John looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Elizabeth would be surprised if anyone in Atlantis had. They had ten people offworld, waiting to be given the all clear, knowing that two of their number were already past help.
“I hate this,” Elizabeth sighed.
“Do you want me to take the next call in?” John offered.
Elizabeth looked up, her shoulders firming and her face becoming resolute. “No. I’m going to stay with them. I don’t want to rest until they are back here, one way or another.”
“Mind if I hang out for a while?”
Elizabeth smiled, the expression feeling so alien on her face after so long not using it.
“That would be good.”
- Minister to prisoners -
“What are you doing?”
Rodney jerked, as if he’d been caught doing something wrong. While what he’d been doing was perfectly legitimate, John Sheppard was the last person he’d wanted to see him doing it.
“The SGC is asking for any and all recordings concerning the Wraith,” Rodney sighed, scrubbing a hand over his eyes.
John leaned over his shoulder, hitting play when Rodney had stopped the video feed on reflex. There he was, stepping into the cell with the Wraith, firing his weapon again and again… and again.
“I understand,” Rodney offered.
John stood, his eyes hard. “I don’t need for you to understand Rodney,” he said, voice cold.
“I know that. I’m just saying… I do.”
John turned to go, but paused in the doorway. “Do you think the SGC will understand?” John asked, fingering the entry panel on the door.
“Understand what?” Rodney asked. John turned and the snow on the computer screen made Rodney’s eyes nothing but hollow shadow. “You know, it’s annoying that this keeps happening. We’ve lost so much video because of power surges.”
John didn’t say thankyou.
He didn’t need to, because Rodney understood.
- Bury the dead -
John was manhandling a protesting Captain towards the ‘gate when Elizabeth’s voice finally registered.
“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” she was demanding, taking the steps down into the ‘gateroom two at a time.
“They left Ramirez behind. They’re just going to go get him,” John snarled, tightening his grip on Captain Scheiss’s jacket, who was looking, pale faced and wide eyed between John and Elizabeth.
“Let him go, Colonel!” Elizabeth snapped. John looked at her with blazing eyes but finally released the bunched fabric in his fist, Scheiss stumbling away and sitting down hard on the steps beside the ‘gate. “In my office, now!”
“Not until someone goes back for Ramirez,” John flung an arm at the still engaged wormhole.
Elizabeth stepped up to John, lowering her head and her voice. “You haven’t slept in three days, we have three teams missing, and I’m thanking God we got any of Scheiss’ team back. I don’t want to, but I will relieve you of duty if you keep this up.”
John stiffened, sparing a glance at Scheiss, before he finally slumped, all the adrenalin draining out of his body at once and leaving a tired and almost broken man in its wake. “Do you think it’s right that his body is left on some forsaken rock no one back on Earth has even heard of? Do you really want to make another MIA message for the good folks at home?”
“No John, it’s not right. Little about this is,” Elizabeth sighed, but then looked up when she noticed three people standing close by.
Teyla, Ronon and Rodney stood, BDUs, weapons and grim expressions in place. Ronon was holding John’s tac vest and P90.
“You do realise this isn’t a rescue mission?” she asked. “It will be retrieval, if you’re lucky.”
“We know,” Rodney said as the others nodded.
Author: kellifer_fic
Characters: Team
Rating: Mature themes
Challenge: Seven Deadly Sins
Spoilers: None.
Summary: Life is hard in the Pegasus Galaxy and doing the right thing... even harder.
- Feed the Hungry -
The first time John was actually fed from by a Wraith, it only lasted two seconds before Ronon and Teyla managed to pry the creature free but it was the worst two seconds of his life.
When Carson offered to explain just what it would mean in terms of shortened life span, John had held up a hand in a silent plea.
No, just… no.
The next morning, John noticed there were strands of grey at his temple while shaving and went to the daily briefing, fully expecting a snarky comment from McKay, something gentle yet probing from Teyla and probably a blunt but to the point, “Getting old there Sheppard,” from Ronon.
Nobody said a word about it.
That was much worse.
- Give drink to the thirsty -
“Eighty six bottles of beer on the wall-“
“Unless you actually have bottles of beer on your wall, I think we’d all appreciate you stopping right there,” Rodney groaned, looking across the cell at John, a hallway and two sets of bars separating them. The cell next to Rodney was occupied by Teyla and Ronon was in the next one down again.
It sounded like a civil war had broken out right after they’d been imprisoned and for two days no one had been back. They’d had a single canteen between them that Ronon had managed to smuggle in god knew how, but even very careful rationing meant they had had the last of it that morning.
“Sorry, poor choice of waiting music huh?” John asked sheepishly. Rodney glared, Ronon growled and Teyla thumped her forehead on the bars of her cell.
“Alrighty then. How about the ‘This Is The Song That Never Ends’ song?”
“You’re kidding, right?” Rodney demanded and John offered a wan smile.
“No, just trying to annoy Ronon enough that he’ll do a hulk and bust us out of here to make the singing stop.”
“Sometimes, we just have to wait to be rescued and have faith that the others are on their way,” Teyla said gently, knowing what was the real problem with John and therefore why he felt compelled to torment the rest of them.
“C’mon Ronon buddy, just try once for me. Think big, green and mean and bust us out.”
“Why green?” Ronon asked mildly. He’d rather been enjoying the beer song and wasn’t annoyed in the least.
“Just, humour a dying man alright?”
Ronon rolled his eyes, wrapped both hands around the bars at the front of his cell and gave them a small shake. There was a grinding sound and the whole front wall of his cell fell outwards, leaving Ronon with his hands up and blinking owlishly.
“Well… that was… unexpected,” John said.
- Give shelter to strangers -
John had explained Christmas to Teyla and she was delighted to take part, marvelling that there was a holiday devoted to giving and receiving gifts as well as being with the family. She listened patiently to Christmas stories, valiantly tried eggnog and allowed Rodney and John to tinsel her room to get into the spirit of things.
Now she was standing before Rodney, crossed arms and face hard, John and Ronon standing behind him, barely managing to cover their smirks.
“Why not?” Teyla demanded.
“How can you even ask that? Are you trying to kill me?”
Teyla leaned past Rodney and glared at John. “I expect you to participate as well. I am still finding tiny pieces of shiny plastic in my room from the overabundance of tinsel you both indulged in.”
John held up his hands. “Hey, I don’t mind at all.”
Teyla shifted back to Rodney. “You would have me embrace your tradition but you would make mockery of mine?”
“I’m not making mockery. I’m simply stating a scientific fact that if I participate, I’ll die.”
Teyla threw up her hands in frustration and stormed from the ‘gate room just as Elizabeth entered. Elizabeth watched her go and then turned back to the three male members of her team with a raised eyebrow. “What did you do this time?”
“Teyla wants us to join in on Dar’iai,” Ronon said, shrugging.
Elizabeth’s brow furrowed. “Isn’t that the festival where-“
“The Athosians fast for three days,” Rodney squeaked, looking appalled.
- Clothe the naked -
Rodney stopped at his belt buckle and sighed heavily.
“Can’t we just leave?”
John smirked, already shirtless and now leaning over to untie his boots and toe them off. “If we want to go without the Roash fruit they have that will possibly replace manufactured Tretonin for the Jaffa nation and thereby free an entire people dependant on having snakes in their belly for survival? Sure, we can leave Rodney.”
Rodney rolled his eyes. “No need to be facetious,” he grumbled.
“Oh there’s always a need.”
Ronon wandered past them, scratching at a very naked behind and then stepping into the mire of mud they were being directed to by the natives.
“What did Teyla have to do again?” Rodney asked, shrugging his shirt off as slowly as possible.
“Some kind of tea ceremony,” John offered, stepping out of his pants and then stretching languidly, completely at home in nothing but his undershorts in front of a large group of gathered natives who all cooed appreciatively.
“Oh this is so not fair,” Rodney sighed.
- Visit the sick -
Elizabeth clicked off her comms and dropped her head to the table, her shoulders slumping.
She felt sick inside.
A tentative hand on her shoulder made her look up and she smiled wanly at John, who perched on the edge of her desk, just like always.
“How are they doing?” he asked, his voice sounding hollow.
“Okay. None of them are presenting with symptoms yet, thank goodness, but it’s hard to explain why they can’t come back through the ‘gate and be quarantined here. They feel…”
“Abandoned?” John supplied.
“We can’t risk it. Fielding was in full hasmat and she got sick. We can’t…”
“I know.” John looked like he hadn’t slept in days. Elizabeth would be surprised if anyone in Atlantis had. They had ten people offworld, waiting to be given the all clear, knowing that two of their number were already past help.
“I hate this,” Elizabeth sighed.
“Do you want me to take the next call in?” John offered.
Elizabeth looked up, her shoulders firming and her face becoming resolute. “No. I’m going to stay with them. I don’t want to rest until they are back here, one way or another.”
“Mind if I hang out for a while?”
Elizabeth smiled, the expression feeling so alien on her face after so long not using it.
“That would be good.”
- Minister to prisoners -
“What are you doing?”
Rodney jerked, as if he’d been caught doing something wrong. While what he’d been doing was perfectly legitimate, John Sheppard was the last person he’d wanted to see him doing it.
“The SGC is asking for any and all recordings concerning the Wraith,” Rodney sighed, scrubbing a hand over his eyes.
John leaned over his shoulder, hitting play when Rodney had stopped the video feed on reflex. There he was, stepping into the cell with the Wraith, firing his weapon again and again… and again.
“I understand,” Rodney offered.
John stood, his eyes hard. “I don’t need for you to understand Rodney,” he said, voice cold.
“I know that. I’m just saying… I do.”
John turned to go, but paused in the doorway. “Do you think the SGC will understand?” John asked, fingering the entry panel on the door.
“Understand what?” Rodney asked. John turned and the snow on the computer screen made Rodney’s eyes nothing but hollow shadow. “You know, it’s annoying that this keeps happening. We’ve lost so much video because of power surges.”
John didn’t say thankyou.
He didn’t need to, because Rodney understood.
- Bury the dead -
John was manhandling a protesting Captain towards the ‘gate when Elizabeth’s voice finally registered.
“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?” she was demanding, taking the steps down into the ‘gateroom two at a time.
“They left Ramirez behind. They’re just going to go get him,” John snarled, tightening his grip on Captain Scheiss’s jacket, who was looking, pale faced and wide eyed between John and Elizabeth.
“Let him go, Colonel!” Elizabeth snapped. John looked at her with blazing eyes but finally released the bunched fabric in his fist, Scheiss stumbling away and sitting down hard on the steps beside the ‘gate. “In my office, now!”
“Not until someone goes back for Ramirez,” John flung an arm at the still engaged wormhole.
Elizabeth stepped up to John, lowering her head and her voice. “You haven’t slept in three days, we have three teams missing, and I’m thanking God we got any of Scheiss’ team back. I don’t want to, but I will relieve you of duty if you keep this up.”
John stiffened, sparing a glance at Scheiss, before he finally slumped, all the adrenalin draining out of his body at once and leaving a tired and almost broken man in its wake. “Do you think it’s right that his body is left on some forsaken rock no one back on Earth has even heard of? Do you really want to make another MIA message for the good folks at home?”
“No John, it’s not right. Little about this is,” Elizabeth sighed, but then looked up when she noticed three people standing close by.
Teyla, Ronon and Rodney stood, BDUs, weapons and grim expressions in place. Ronon was holding John’s tac vest and P90.
“You do realise this isn’t a rescue mission?” she asked. “It will be retrieval, if you’re lucky.”
“We know,” Rodney said as the others nodded.