Title: Alien is a State of Mind
Author: Kodiak bear
Cat: Gen
Characters: team, Elizabeth, Carson, and Lorne
Word count: 2,700 +
Warnings: It's a little like being drunk (is that a bad thing)?
Summary: You travel millions of light years and all you ever get is trees, trees, trees.
AN: Thanks to my betas linzi and tazmy, and some great input from Kylen.
Alien is a State of Mind
By Kodiak bear
It rains gold.
John mistakenly asks Rodney why, and then stops listening when the explanation reaches angles of refraction and frequency.
The wind smells like spice and evergreens.
Teyla would've been uncomfortable with the sensory overload but for the fascination of being submersed in rivers of red, red wine.
Tall swaying reeds of grass dwarf their bodies and dance lullabies under a wispy, turbulent, cotton-candy-green sky.
Ronon forgets he owns a blaster when an animal on four legs (and two spares) meanders nearby, as large as Sheppard's team is tall, with serious purple eyes; it has a slightly curious -- but possibly disinterested -- question on its soft, furry lips, of just who might the interlopers be.
When they return to Atlantis (not entirely sure why they left), Teyla carefully bears bouquets of singing flowers.
John is glad he took the camera, because now he has proof that Rodney secretly enjoys little living things. John's only sad because Ronon refused to smuggle the furry bramble home in his hair. It'd had a blue button nose, lost in a riot of brown hair, black streaks blazing around the soft, spherical body. It had loved John very much.
Rodney refuses to admit to John he only liked the bramble because of the resemblance to another chaotic tuft of black that he spends most of every day behind or looking over his shoulder at.
"Teyla," Elizabeth says politely, when they return. "Your flowers are very…" her smile strikes John as a little forced and she finishes with an unenthusiastic, "interesting."
"They are a treasure I have yet to find," Teyla agrees.
Rodney purses his lips and shifts the incongruity of the statement to his tongue. "That would actually mean you haven't found them. Considering the fact that you happen to be gripping the ugly, alien weeds--" Rodney never has liked flowers, despite his on and off again obsession with Katie Brown; not even flowers that sing and dance.
Sheppard nudges Rodney and hisses, "Be nice. We don't want another impromptu poem on plants and their--"
"—attributes," finishes Rodney forlornly. "Yes, so true, Colonel."
"I thought they were little people," Ronon shrugs.
A concerned wrinkle appears across Elizabeth's forehead and the security detail standing at ease beside the 'gate straightens. "Gentlemen," Elizabeth nods at the sergeants, "why don't you escort Colonel Sheppard and his team to their post-mission exam."
John smiles fondly at his men.
OoO
The headache is possibly the worst.
Rodney moans and buries his shivering body under triple layers of blankets (because the chills are a close second to the headaches).
Carson mutters exposure and hallucinogen and after a particularly frustrating battle in which he tries to convince Ronon to wear the pink robes (they're not pink and they're not robes, they aren't even pajamas! They're white scrubs, and you will wear them – or, alright then, maybe not; leather is a new look for the infirmary), John's team each have their own hammock, swaying in the wind that now only smells slightly cinnamon-y. (There's wind in Atlantis?)
John wants the gold rain back. And the green skies and grass that made him sleepy and soft and safe. He knows if they could just go back, his head would stop hurting and the aching cold in his bones would go away. And Teyla would stop weeping over her withered flowers.
"That's it," Rodney states. "We're going back."
"I'm in." Ronon begins to undress until Teyla scowls and reminds him he's not wearing pink robes. He's wearing his usual boring leather, and her disapproval rings in all their skulls. Teyla likes pink.
John grins at his team. He knew he could always count on them. Leaving him on the other side of a time dilation field, that was an accident, and they had come for him on Kolya's hidey-hole. Late is better than never and it's the thought that counts; and the arrival of the Jumper had meant he didn't have to keep searching for the 'gate, uneasily partnered with a Wraith.
With a gentle push, he rolls from his hammock, stumbles, falls into Rodney. Carson folds his arms and skeptically considers the mission-in-progress in front of him.
They make it to the door; John, Rodney and Teyla still dressed haphazardly in scrubs; Rodney stubbornly trailing a blanket behind him; much like a tired toddler, refusing to leave the security of cotton and sleep, even when night has gone. Rodney's rumpled bedhead makes John smile affectionately (but secretly (he hopes)). They make it to the door, and it opens, only for Lorne to straighten from his slouch against the opposite wall, his eyebrow rising. "Sir?"
"We're going back to MX9-007, Major," John asserts. He is In Charge, after all.
Lorne's mouth twitches. "Yes, Sir," he says respectfully. "But first you need your pre-mission exam."
Ronon rumbles a protest. John knows he hates the constant check-ups and finds them stupid and unnecessary (though the Satedan raises his protests with a succinctness to make O'Neill wish Ronon was his second-in-command; sometimes Ronon's only protest is a glare, heavy and threatening, and proving the truth behind A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words). Sometimes John practices The Glare in the mirror (but don't tell Rodney that).
Teyla is the teacher's pet. Her protests are often soft, rarely hard-edged and scary -- except that one time in the beginning when Elizabeth totally insulted Teyla and her people; and maybe that one time when John didn't want to stay on the planet and there was that time with Bates -- and she sees the sense in the nonsensical. "Very well. Come, John, Rodney…" she glowers forcefully at Ronon's protest before it escapes, "Ronon."
They are led to gurneys and John misses his hammock.
OoO
His body burns, queasiness kidnaps his stomach; his throat, stomach, and eyes burn. He longs for Rodney's blanket (comfort me), Teyla's gentle whispers (care for me), and even Ronon's glare (scare the queasiness away). But all John gets is a needle, darkness, and empty promises.
OoO
They say you never know what you're missing until it's gone. John stares at the barren video feed from the MALP and doesn't know how to make the emptiness in his gut go away.
Elizabeth, a piercing, knowing look penetrating too far into John's private thoughts, pushes a button on a remote control and the picture disappears from the screen. The briefing room is cold (or maybe it's lingering withdrawal symptoms). Rodney, ever the scientist, is both parts fascinated and horrified. "And we knew what it was like before going?" he reiterates. "Why on earth would we go then, Carson?"
Carson sighs paternally, patiently. "Because, Rodney, we were given misleading information by Teyla's contact on Neamana (pronounced nee-a-mana). There was supposed to be Ancient ruins and you practically insisted on going."
The last 72 hours drain away from Rodney's memory and he sits straighter. "Really? Ruins you say? Maybe we should go back. We can take a Jumper this time --" They hadn't before because of conservation. Jumpers were Ancient machinery that they lacked the ability to replicate (for now). In the interest of preserving the supply they had, a policy of selective use was militaristically enforced (after the last crash totaled Jumper number three).
"Nobody's going back," Elizabeth interjects (stridently). "I sent Major Lorne out with a Jumper after you returned. There isn't anything there, Rodney. Carson has isolated the chemicals in the atmosphere and we're fortunate that you returned ahead of schedule."
Carson nods. "The chemicals interact with human physiology in ways we don't quite understand yet, and maybe never will." He shakes his head, frustrated. "There's obviously a psychic component as you four shared at least some hallucinations, and if you asked me four years ago if such a thing were possible, I'd say you were three sheets to the wind."
But it is what it is. The Neamanas had apparently seen Ancient buildings, ruins, their shared hallucinations consisting of the one thing so many cultures in the Pegasus galaxy worshipped and wanted (needed in their desperation). When John's team had arrived at the same location, they had seen (maybe what they always expected) nothing but an uninhabited world, other than animals; their chemically influenced minds had linked and formed an exotically beautiful, mostly empty world; candy-coated, lush with feelings and colors and many, many things that could never be expressed to anyone else.
Ronon has looked depressed since they were released from the infirmary, mere hours ago, and has sat quietly through the discussion. He now also looks vaguely betrayed and breaks his silence. "Why wasn't it detected before?" To save us this loss.
John and Teyla share a sympathetic glance. Ronon's accusation is full of subtle resentment; words unspoken. I felt unreality. I touched immortality. I was beauty, and exhaled greatness. I want it again. Experiencing nirvana and then losing it – it was possibly more painful than withdrawal.
The need to go back. The desire. Even now, John feels an unrelenting itch under his skin and a cold sweat dotting above his eyes. Carson says it will go away, dissipate, but John swallows back the realization that Carson didn't see the purple eyes or the red wine river. John feels sure it would be safe enough to just go through for a few minutes. Just one more time. They'll appreciate what they were given this time, and let it take them deeper and farther.
Need is as painful as absence.
Carson had only seen a gray horizon; a ground of dead, blackened ash. Sickly yellow pale skies. Emaciated deer-like creatures that nuzzle the camera in hopes of a reprieve. Rocks, images burned on their craggy surfaces, painted aftermaths of explosions from cataclysmic events they don't (and won't) ever know about.
Weeds that towered on the edge of an old foot path and only moaned sadly. (Nothing sings).
Weeds that hid thorns and thorns that cut skin and drew blood. (That was never felt; pain didn't exist).
Contaminated. Dead. The north winds bore poison on their backs; and it only highlights the fragility and limitations of their lives as space explorers; in a big and strange universe, they were dependent on fallible MALP information and human misinterpretation. Samples taken during periods of calm had delivered falsely safe levels of possibly toxic by-products in the air.
The risk ratio of this life, when pressed against the need for power and information, was never so high that they hid from danger not yet obvious.
"Because when samples were gathered the winds were blowing from the south." Elizabeth brings her hands against the table and it booms in Sheppard's headache like brilliant bursts of fireworks. "Get some rest," she says over-brightly. "Carson says we were all very lucky."
John suspects the glassy eyes she tries to hide behind hurried blinks has little to do with lack of sleep and everything to do with the unspoken this time.
OoO
Carson warns that the chemicals are highly addictive and there are frequent blood tests. Chemicals (like memories) linger in their bodies. Recovery time feels oddly like prison time. Unwittingly, their feet take them to the control room, time and time again; sometimes together, sometimes apart. In contemplative silence, they frequently stare at the only route back to the wonders of their short existence; (longing, dreaming, wishing).
OoO
The control room is empty. The technician pulled away by a false call for help. John steps from the shadows, Rodney, Teyla and Ronon behind him.
They have minutes. Maybe seconds (Elizabeth's not stupid).
Rodney dials at John's nod.
The 'gate stands balefully quiet.
Once more, once more (and then they'll find the strength for nevermore (they promise)).
Elizabeth melts into the room; worry etched in facial lines that John knows weren't there three years ago. She looks tired, resigned. Sad. "I'm sorry, John. The address has been purged," she looks pointedly at Rodney, "permanently."
"Please, you think that's going to stop us?" Rodney's condescension drips in the air. "Sheppard's memory is practically photographic. Shame his navigational skills--"
"No." Elizabeth's quiet negation slices surprisingly through them.
Ronon doesn't look so much threatening as resolved; you can't keep me here, I'm not one of you; "We'll go when we're on another mission. You can't keep us locked up forever." You can't keep me locked up at all.
"Elizabeth," Teyla speaks cajolingly, "we merely wish to go back, just once. It is…" she tilts her head, losing herself in incomplete thought: your mother's soft kiss good night; your first love and loss, together; so that neither is so strong as to overwhelm; winning every battle, and losing no one; songs burrowing inside you; music that wraps around your bones, cushioning every step and beat of your heart, "--indescribable."
"Listen to yourselves," Elizabeth stresses. "You were exposed once and are addicted. What do you think twice will do?" Her mouth thins. "No, I'm sorry. Your team is grounded, John. Until further notice."
John seethes. "Ronon's right. We'll go, eventually. You can't stop us."
Her eyebrow arches. "Oh, really?"
"We know the address. You can erase Atlantis' databanks, but you can't erase our memories."
Elizabeth nods agreeably. "Of course, you're right." She clasps her hands in front of her waist. She smiles regretfully. "Tell me, then, what is it?"
"It's--"
John had had the memory of the glyphs. He knew he'd had them. They'd been solidly waiting, just behind his eyes, for the moment when he knew he'd need them, but when he goes to grab hold, they break apart, liquefy, and drift into darkness so deep he can't see. What the hell?
"Who did it?" Rodney bites angrily.
Ronon just looks sick.
"Hermiod," Rodney continues, never needing answers to all his rhetorical questions. "That arrogant, selfish bastard of an alien! I bet he got a kick out of it, enjoyed messing with my brain." Anger shifts to disbelief. "How could you do that? How could you let anyone mess with our minds without our permission?"
John suddenly understands her grief (but he's still mad).
"Because I would rather you hate me than write your names on the weekly casualty report." She makes to turn on her heel but doesn't. "Occam's razor, Rodney; if anyone, you should appreciate the simplistic beauty. Taking the entire experience away was too big a breach, we couldn't do that to you, but to remove one piece of information, one small assortment of numbers and letters, and thereby preventing you from self-destructive behavior and harm…" she trails off and sighs, "I'm sorry. I truly am." And she is.
For letting this happen to you in the first place; for the steps necessary to guard your safety; for the pain you always feel; for the doubt I'll always carry.
Then she turns, sharply, and is gone, and it's only then that John realizes the technician is back, along with guards, Lorne, and Carson. John rolls his head wearily, inevitably. "I just wanted to hold a bramble again."
The brambles were the closest John had ever been to unwavering, unconditional love.
OoO
Rodney still clings to the blanket in their shared therapy room.
John clings to Rodney.
Ronon stares at black and white photos of Sateda, taken by the expedition's historian, and mutters you can't keep me.
Teyla smells and frets over flowers sent by botany; flowers that will never do anything other than sit limply in a vase -- except eventually wilt and die.
OoO
Weeks later, they are declared ready for their first mission since Paradise Lost (the unofficial name now given to MX9-007 (but only by John and his team)). Their packs are on their shoulders; weapons, strapped in place on their bodies. They are walking only a short distance to a known village; one that prefers they not use the Jumper even if they were allowed.
It's a courtesy call. A cake walk. A kindergarten field trip to make them all feel like they are back to normal, and that Elizabeth trusts them again (when really, she only trusts that the Asgard know their human minds). MX5-223 is more Earth-like than any world they'd been to yet.
In an alien galaxy, in a big universe, John despairingly knows (accepts) the only true alien landscape (world) he has ever known only exists in his mind (and Rodney's, Teyla's and Ronon's).