I've been mining the Gateworld image gallery for pictures of John and Rodney that I could draw and then change the background, just for fun. But then, as I was struggling with their tiny faces (oil pastels are like lipsticks - a silly choice really!), a little story popped into my head, beginning, as usual, with a snarky conversation. It was fun, so I think I might do more - maybe make it into a series? Like a picture book of little stories! But I can't post the pictures here, so you'll have to either have a look on AO3, or come and find me on Tumblr!
Dragon
"There aren't really any dragons here, though, right?"
Rodney stopped in the middle of the rutted dirt road and turned his whole body over to an expression of disbelief - mouth open, eyes and nose crinkled up, hands out to either side, in a wordless what the fuck?
His companion carried on trudging a pace or two and then turned back, the angle of his P-90 dropping by about twenty degrees as his shoulders sagged and his eyes rolled.
"I only asked."
"And I only chose not to reply verbally because, hey, hello?" Rodney waved his hands in front of Sheppard's face. "This is MJ2-079! Not fairyland!"
John snorted and huffed a bit, which as witty ripostes went was pretty pathetic. Then he resumed his efficient soldier-boy slouch along the road, all his energy going into keeping his hands ready on his weapon and his eyes ready to spot things that might need shooting.
Rodney followed. "Although I admit something must be responsible for the spate of cattle killings. Something sufficiently large and clawed to take down a large cow."
"They're more like deer."
"Whatever," dismissed Rodney. "Something's killing them."
"And we've got the job of killing the something," added John.
"Which is just totally stupid." Rodney's boots were beginning to rub his heels. And his jacket was bunching up under his arms and chafing his sensitive skin. And he didn't have his sunscreen with him, which was bad because even though it was autumn in this area on this particular planet, he reckoned the sun was still putting out more UV rays than he was comfortable with. "Why didn't they send Ronon and Teyla and take us as prisoners? Ronon would have enjoyed going on a hunt and Teyla would kick any dragon's ass and be home in time for tea."
"I thought you said there weren't any dragons."
"There aren't. But whatever it is, I have yet to see or imagine a beast whose ass Teyla couldn't kick."
"Yeah. Hey, who'd win? Teyla or Ripley from Alien?"
"In the Alien-killing stakes or against each other?"
John squinted, thoughtfully. "Both."
"Teyla."
John grunted agreement. He stopped and scanned their surroundings, took out his canteen and drank thirstily.
Rodney looked around too - dirt road and green stuff - just the same as it had been for the last half a day, since they'd left Ronon and Teyla behind in the local ruler's dungeons and set out on their enforced quest. He also drank, then extracted an energy bar and wolfed it down.
John's boots scuffed on the damp earth. "Are there any life signs up ahead?"
"Hang on." Rodney stuffed in the rest of his snack, pocketed the wrapper and took out the life signs detector. "Uh. Make that a no."
"You don't sound sure."
"Well there's nothing big. A couple of rabbit-size readings."
"Okay. Keep an eye on it."
"Sure thing, Beowulf."
"Beowulf?"
"Or any other mythical dragonslayer of your choice." A cold drop landed on Rodney's nose. "Is that rain? That's rain, isn't it?"
"Yes, McKay. Water that falls from the sky. That's what it's called."
"Oh, ha ha. I should have expected it, I suppose. After all, anything that could add to my discomfort was bound to happen."
"You're not the only one out here."
Rodney waved the LSD dismissively. "Yes, but you're trained for that kind of thing. You don't care about getting cold or wet or shot."
"Don't I?"
"Well, you pretend not to and that amounts to the same thing."
"Just keep an eye on that display, Rodney."
"I am keeping an eye on it. 'Two eyes, as often as I can spare them.'"
"Easy - Lord of the Rings," said John. "That's six - four to me."
"No it's not! I won, back on M38-K12! We started a new game and it's two - one to me, thank you very much!"
"You're such a cheat, McKay."
"I don't need to cheat - hey, that's not good." He tapped the display and shook it a bit. It must be faulty.
"What? Let me see. Whoa! Look at the size of that!"
Rodney fiddled with the controls, zooming out the range. Their own two small dots showed at the bottom of the screen, but the top half was entirely occupied by a glowing, shifting mass. The display wobbled, but it was no technical glitch. Rodney swallowed. He couldn't blame his shaking on hypoglycemia - he'd only just had an energy bar.
"Okay, okay, okay… uh… It's just remotely possible I may have been wrong about the whole dragon issue."
"Ya think?"
Oh God, Sheppard's face was taking on that terrifying mixture of dead-eyed killing machine and suicidal heroism that never led anywhere good - not for him anyway. "Wh - what's the plan?"
John licked his lips, sucking in the lower one and letting it slide slowly out. "Uh, how d'you fancy being bait?"
"Not. I mean I don't. No. Definitely not. It's Friday, which isn't bait day. No day is bait day for Rodney McKay. Hey, that rhymes!" A hysterical giggle escaped and Rodney slapped his hand over his mouth.
"Calm down, McKay." John took one hand off his P-90 and its reassuring weight rested on Rodney's shoulder. "All you need to do is attract the thing's attention, then when it's not expecting it I'll do my stuff."
"Your st- stuff?"
"Yeah, you know - the old C4 down the throat trick. Wait till it gets swallowed down, then - 'Fire in the hole!'"
Rodney glanced down at the LSD. He scratched his nose. "I can't help feeling there's a small flaw in that plan somewhere."
"Well, it's the best I've got. Come on."
Some time and a lot of screaming later…
"My arm hurts. Can we swap sides?"
"No."
"Huh." Rodney swapped hands anyway, bringing his left arm awkwardly across his body to haul on the rope. "I suppose we couldn't just have brought a claw or a tooth or something?"
"No."
Rodney glanced over his shoulder. "It's leaving a trail. Yuk. What happens when we get to that steep bit of the path - hey, maybe it'll just roll down."
"Maybe."
The shadows were lengthening, the air growing chilly. They still had a long way to go. But at least it had stopped raining, even though it was too late now - he was already soaked. One of the villages they'd passed through on the way would help them out, though - give them a cart or something. Hauling a dragon's head all those miles back to the castle was going to give Rodney blisters upon blisters - on his hands as well as his feet.
"So anyway, at least we killed it. Even if the whole plan went to hell. As usual."
"'No plan survives contact with the enemy,'" said John.
"What's the point in planning, then? Although a bit more planning might have helped. A bit more consideration of the ways and attributes of your average dragon wouldn't have gone amiss."
John stopped and dropped his half of the rope, rubbed his hand and flexed his arm. "You said there weren't any dragons. So, what's the point in thinking about dragons if there aren't any dragons?"
"Well, you don't have to think about them much to recall one salient fact - to whit: they breathe fire."
"Yeah. I don't think either of us are gonna forget that one in a hurry."
"No." Rodney rubbed his forehead where his eyebrows should be and probed his cheeks and nose gently. "How bad does it look?"
John shrugged. "Just like a real bad sunburn. Carson'll soon fix you up."
Rodney looked down at his gore-splattered clothes. "I don't think the laundry staff are going to be too happy with us."
John shrugged again and took up his end of the rope. "Tough," he said. "Anyways, I'm slinging all my kit - those scales were sharp." He winced as he took up the strain.
The head bumped along the road behind them. "You're lucky you got away with shredded BDUs and a few scratches, you idiot! Imagine climbing the thing, sitting on its great, long neck! That wasn't part of the plan!"
"No," admitted John. "That was improvised." His grin flashed white in the failing light. "It worked though, didn't it?"
"Well, I should think that much C4 would finish off most things."
"Blew its head clean off," chuckled John.
"When I pressed the detonator switch," said Rodney smugly. "That'd be around the time you fainted!"
"I didn't faint! I was winded - that thing threw me at least ten yards!"
The path steepened and the rope went slack, needing just an occasional tug to set the head rolling along behind them.
"We did it, though, didn't we? We slayed the dragon. Or slew. We kicked its ass."
"Yeah. We did. We did good, McKay."
Lights twinkled on the road ahead - a village. There'd be an inn. With food. And someone would lend them a cart to take the dragon's head to the castle. And they'd let Ronon and Teyla go. And maybe Rodney would be allowed to excavate the dungeons of their 'castle' and see if there were any drones or ZPMs buried there.
Rodney sighed with weariness and hunger and because his burns were sore. And then he looked at John, who grinned his silly grin, which Rodney returned. And sighed again, in satisfaction. Just another day in the Pegasus Galaxy - but a good day, in the end.
I hope you enjoyed my little story! Don't forget to check out the accompanying art - and please review! Thank you!
