Tattoos
Rated: G
Summary: John's feeling left out. Are there any tattoo artists on Atlantis? Enjoy!
Season: any. Pick your favorite.
Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate Atlantis.
A/N: Hey everybody! Sorry I haven't written anything in a while. Things have been rather difficult as of the last few months. Hope this brings a smile to your face.
A/N to Mom: I promise I haven't gotten a tattoo. Not yet anyway…
Best wishes and lots of love!
Macisgate
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The occupants of the jumper weren't saying much. They were tired. They were cranky. They wanted to go home. Their last mission had involved a very boisterous band of natives who insisted on a four-day celebration of their new friendship and trade agreement.
Suffice it to say, everyone was pooped out. Intellectual conversation was not attempted even by Rodney.
"So, Ronan," John broke the quiet. "What's the deal with the tattoo?" He motioned to his neck.
Ronan had not handled the celebration well. In fact, he looked downright surly. John didn't think he was going to get an answer. But he did.
"It's from my service in the military. It's how we identify each other – like your dog tags," he explained.
"Cool," John replied.
They sat quietly for a while longer.
"I have a tattoo as well," Teyla offered.
"Really?" John asked. "Let's see."
Teyla pulled the back of her shirt down to reveal the space between her shoulder blades. A beautiful, ornamental bird graced her skin. John guessed it was the Athosian equivalent to an eagle.
"It's a griffin – a bird of prey found on Athos," she explained. "It serves as a reminder that we are not simply prey to the Wraith. We are skilled warriors and hunters, and, one day, the Wraith will fall by our hands."
"Nice," John complimented.
"Better than nice," Rodney joined the conversation. "Griffins are legendary on earth. There are myths about them but no evidence that they ever existed. I don't suppose your griffins have magical powers?"
"No, they do not," Teyla smiled at Rodney's crestfallen face.
More silence broken only by Rodney's tapping foot.
"I bet you're all wondering what my tattoo is," he finally burst.
"You have a tattoo?" John asked incredulously.
Rodney looked hurt. "Of course I do," he defended. He pulled up his sleeve to reveal his shoulder where a small figure eight lay sideways. "It's the scientific symbol for infinity," he explained with pride. "Everyone in my high school science club got it. We even skipped school and faked notes from our parents. It was crazy."
"I don't believe this," John shook his head. "You, Rodney MacKay, hypochondriac extraordinaire, have a tattoo."
"Yes," Rodney nodded.
"You, Rodney MacKay, who can't stand needles, have a tattoo?"
"I just showed it to you," he reminded John. "What can I say?" he shrugged. "Peer pressure overcame even my strong aversion for pain."
John still had a funny look on his face.
"Whoa, wait a minute," Rodney smirked and leaned forward in his chair towards John. "You don't have one, do you?"
John refused to answer.
"Colonel Shepherd, is this true?" Teyla questioned smiling.
"Oh come on," John defended. "I can't be the only person on Atlantis who doesn't have a tattoo."
"John, I have a tattoo," Rodney pointed to himself.
"I think we've had enough chit chat for one mission, don't you? Let's focus on getting home, shall we?"
"Fine," Rodney acquiesced.
"Very well," Teyla agreed.
"Whatever," Ronan shrugged.
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John finally finished writing his mission report. He decided to deliver it in person. He knocked on the door to Elizabeth's office
Elizabeth looked up and waved him in. "Don't tell me you're handing in a report on time – without being asked."
"Thought it would be a nice surprise," he offered.
"Well, thank you," she said, taking the pad from him.
"You're welcome," he smiled and turned to leave. But he stopped and turned back around. "Elizabeth, you don't happen to have a… never mind."
"Have a what?" she asked, stopping him from leaving again.
"Well, I just- you don't have a tattoo, do you?"
"Yes, actually I do," she admitted.
John let out a frustrated growl. "Are you kidding me?"
"No," Elizabeth looked towards the door to make sure no one was nearby. She moved the band of her pants just enough so he could see her lower back. "It's the Hebrew word for unity," she explained.
"Of course it is," he said putting a hand to his head.
"Are you okay, John?" Elizabeth asked with concern.
"Depends. We didn't happen to bring a tattoo artist to Atlantis, did we?"
"Sorry," she winced.
John shook his head and left.
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Two weeks later
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Elizabeth leaned against the balcony and let the evening breeze brush across her face. She heard the doors open behind her.
"You wanted to see me?" John moved to stand beside her.
"Yes," Elizabeth turned and leaned her back against the railing. "I'm afraid I have good news and bad news."
"Oh?"
"I took the liberty of asking General Landry for a favor. Off the record," she assured him. "And while he could not grant my request for an archeologist/tattoo artist, he did send this." Elizabeth held up a small packet. Where do you want it?" she asked.
Sixty seconds later, John looked proudly at the barbed wire band around his bicep.
"Elizabeth, you're the best," he thanked her, giving her a sideways hug, careful of his treasured arm.
"Hey, what kind of a leader would I be if I didn't look out for the needs of my people?" she smiled. "Just be careful when you shower," she warned.
John was fairly beaming. "I'm going to go show Rodney," he said, running off.
Elizabeth just smiled after him, they turned back to look over the water once more. Some days as Atlantis' leader were so much easier than others.
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The End
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