~ Dark & Dreary ~
Author's Note: This story is set just after Duet, when Ronon is very new to the city and has not yet been on a mission with the Team, and at a time when Rodney has been dealing with his own problems...
Another Author's Note follows the story.
Word Count: 1699
Characters: Rodney, Sheppard, Teyla, Ronon.
Warning: Vague references to Siege(s), Intruder, Runner and Duet.
Disclaimer: 'Stargate Atlantis' and its characters are not mine. I would not have left them under the aegis of those whose interest lay elsewhere.
SGA ~ SGA ~ SGA
The problem with being indispensable was that one was, well, indispensable. And that meant that one's time was not one's own. He hadn't exactly volunteered to investigate the matter, but after loudly proclaiming that nothing was ever done right unless he did it himself, Rodney McKay acknowledged ~ silently only to himself ~ that he had no option but to enter the dimly lit maintenance and engineering sections of the city to resolve whatever was causing the intermittent power interruptions. The other problem was that the damage to the city from the Wraith attack was still being addressed and engaging the single ZedPM, while allowing greater access to city functions, was likely responsible for the interruptions due to conflicts with their Earthly power grid.
Rodney wouldn't say so openly, but it was eerie to be in a part of Atlantis that was mostly unknown; there had been no reason to maintain extended areas of the city that couldn't be powered. Zelenka's team had been all over the section, trying to locate the problem, but Rodney still felt as if he were in unexplored territory. Alone. Remembering the trouble caused by abandoned Ancient experiments, not to mention finding a Wraith in the city, made Rodney wonder if he should perhaps have found a way to designate this task as a group effort. Anything could be hidden in the shadows. There had even been a briefing regarding the possibility of another Wraith in the city, hibernating, undetectable to sensors until it woke at a predetermined time.
Rodney heard crunching in his ear. "Are you eating?" he asked suspiciously. Radios had been intermittent, another effect of power interruptions. Rodney adjusted his grip on the flashlight and halted his study of the array while he awaited an answer.
"Yep," John Sheppard agreed cheerfully, and crunchily continued chewing. "Man, have I missed Granny Smiths."
"Who?" Rodney asked without thinking. "Oh."
Sheppard took another bite and chewed noisily in Rodney's earbud. "Why don't you give it up for now and come enjoy the fun? You can give Ronon tips on party-going."
Even without visual confirmation Rodney knew that a smirk accompanied the comment. So far Rodney's longest interaction with the large newcomer to the city had been brief and upside-down. He shivered just thinking about Sheppard's push to have The Hulk join their team. As for party-going, Rodney couldn't imagine Ronon in a costume; the taciturn behemoth didn't need to dress up to be scary. Besides, he ate like a horse and Rodney wasn't prepared to share with the unappreciative. The victuals last year were good for local fare but were not The Real Thing.
"Are you sure there haven't been any changes?" Rodney re-directed the conversation. He juggled his equipment in order to remove the itchy, stick-on mustache. He shoved it into his shirt pocket, next to the notecard that had earlier been pinned to the outside of the pocket. It wasn't much of a costume, but it was all he was prepared to endure and it was enough to get him what he wanted ~ unchallenged access to chocolate. And candy corn. Assuming, of course, he resolved the power issue before the ignorant hordes had devoured all the goodies. Rodney had expected to find the problem and create a work-around hours ago.
"Nope, no changes," Sheppard assured.
Rodney huffed to himself. He wasn't certain how seriously Sheppard was taking the situation but he could hardly complain, considering the colonel had volunteered to monitor the Control Room consoles while Rodney made the on-site checks.
"You know," Sheppard drawled, "you're usually faster than this." Rodney stiffened in umbrage, but the colonel continued, "I deduce the problem will take more manpower."
The Smirk again. Rodney could imagine his teammate, lazily sprawled in the chair, boots resting on the desk as he toyed with a pipe while wearing a deerstalker cap. With a couple props and some clever adjustments to his wardrobe the colonel had wholly managed the impersonation. Last year Sheppard had sweet-talked someone into sewing a cape; he'd made a passable Zorro.
"Zelenka has had nearly three months to solve this." Rodney bit off each word. "Instead of marveling at the changes produced by the ZedPM, he should have been working to integrate city power. I think I should be granted more than three hours." Of course, Rodney admitted to himself as he glanced around the dingy, cheerless space, now he'd just like to leave the depressing area and drop the whole problem back in Zelenka's lap.
"No, no. Let's face it ~ you haven't been yourself." More of The Smirk. "And in your recent situation, I don't think two heads were better than one."
Rodney shuddered at the memory of too-close-for-comfort sharing and gritted his teeth. He opened his mouth for a retort when a sound echoed in the hall. Rodney swung his light in an arc, directing it over the walls. Darkness, nothing more.
"Seriously, McKay, you're trying to find a needle in a haystack. You're gonna need more people."
Rodney paid no attention. There was a sort-of sliding noise, a scrape, then tapping. "Sheppard!" Rodney squeezed into a doorway and turned off his light. "There's something here!"
"What d'you mean, there's something there?" Sheppard was alert, although understandably slightly suspicious.
Rodney whispered, "I hear something. Someone."
"So, ask who it is," the colonel calmly instructed.
"Are you insane!? No one should be here," Rodney insisted. "And this is exactly why Zelenka should have ironed out all the kinks so the citywide sensors would be online!" Rodney went to the ground and crouched as the sounds drew closer. "Sheppard?" Rodney keyed his earbud and urgently whispered, "Sheppard?!"
Tap, tap, tap. Rodney strained to monitor the approaching sounds as the blood was pounding in his ears. Slide, scrape, tap. Where could he go when he didn't know this part of the city? Who knew what could be lurking in the halls, undiscovered during the months he'd been away on the trip to and from Earth?
Rodney heard a multitude of thumping, then a large, hulking shape came inexorably toward his hiding place. Rodney scrunched even smaller in the corner of the doorway and held his breath.
"McKay?"
The voice was recognizable, coming from a Holmesian silhouette holding a Beretta. On the other side of what Rodney presumed was a Satedan mountain was a dainty figure, which jingled as it walked. Rodney stood, straightening in confidence, now that he was not alone. As he moved forward to join the others there was a minor explosion of sound, like the caw of a crow. Rodney clamped his lips and slapped a hand over his mouth in hopes of recalling his girlish squeal.
Slide, scrape, tap, tap, tap.
"What the hell…?" Sheppard said slowly. He raised his sidearm, more out of curiosity than in response to a threat.
Rodney meeped when a tall figure emerged from the shadows. Rodney's own exclamation had disturbed the interloper's routine. It turned toward the foursome, leveled a long arm and stretched out a hand, and in a distorted voice uttered, "Where do we eat?"
Rodney gulped audibly. Sheppard reached into his cargo trousers for a penlight to illuminate what looked like Ichabod Crane, complete with a pumpkin head.
The figure slid a palm along the wall, feeling for the breaks between sections. There was another caw and the distorted voice asked, "Can you help me out of this? I seem to be lost."
Sheppard holstered his weapon and with some difficulty managed to remove the pumpkin from the creature's shoulders. The face that appeared was pink and glistening with sweat.
"Whew. I'm glad I found you guys. I've been rapping on panels for ages." The man removed a glove and offered his hand. "Colonel, I'm Riker. You probably don't remember me. I'm a nurse. A group of us from Medical were together but…" The man sniffed and suddenly cawed in an explosive sneeze.
"C'mon. Let's get you to the party," Sheppard urged jovially. "I hear someone is making brownies." He slapped the nurse on the arm and led the way back to the city center.
Rodney tuned out the colonel's small-talk. All he wanted was to arrive at the party before the chocolate was gone. He reached into his shirt pocket and retrieved the mustache while Teyla fell into step beside him. She looked...very nice. And vaguely familiar. She often wore clothing that bared her arms and midriff, but this outfit was colorful and had sparkley things attached.
Teyla evidently noticed Rodney's inspection because she shimmied her shoulders. Something jingled. "Dr. Weir bought it for me and helped me make changes. She says I am the Athosian Princess Jasmine."
That triggered a distant memory in Rodney's mind. He kept walking as he pressed firmly on his upper lip to secure the mustache, then he reached up to muss his hair. Finally he pinned the notecard back on his pocket. It read, 'E = m c(squared)'.
Teyla nodded. "I remember from last year. Albert Einstein. I have learned of his many accomplishments."
There was some satisfaction in knowing at least one person would understand his costume choice. Arriving at the party Rodney was relieved to see trays of brownies. As he made his way along the food table, piling items onto his plate, he saw Ronon look curiously at the candy corn. The Hulk had bypassed the chocolate and gone straight for the corn. After one taste the big man stuck his hand into the bowl of candy and reared back his head in order to dump a fistful of the multi-colored bits into his gaping maw; Rodney doubled up on the items on his own plate.
The lights overhead flickered off and on. Rodney glared over at Zelenka, who shrugged. Rodney huffed to himself. One more thing to work into his schedule. And he intended to make it a group effort. He had zero intention of entering the bowels of the city alone. Ever. Never. If Ichabod was wandering around, what else might have slipped past security and sensors? Over the din of party-goers Rodney swore he could hear tap, tap, tap… *~*
. . .
Author's Note: In my story 'A Hollow Reminder' Ronon made a comment about the previous year's Hallowe'en, so I thought it might be fun to write about that Hallowe'en he mentioned.
Granny Smith is a variety of apple (crisp, green, tart).
Although Arthur Conan Doyle (1859-1930) made only brief reference to Sherlock Holmes wearing a cloth cap, the canonical image of Holmes in a deerstalker was cast in stone by the drawings of Sidney Paget (1860-1908) for The Strand Magazine.
Ichabod Crane is a character in the short story The Legend Of Sleepy Hollow by Washington Irving (1783-1859).
Princess Jasmine is a character in the 1992 Disney animated film Aladdin.
Vague 'imagery' in this story comes from the poem The Raven, by Edgar Allan Poe (1809-1849).
Thanks to Iuvsbruce for coming to my rescue.
Feedback is always appreciated.
Happy Hallowe'en, and thanks for reading!