Chapter 3:
John sat down heavily on the gate room ramp. He watched muzzily as the stunned soldiers were carted away, and someone started sweeping up the broken glass.
"Oh, beautiful, you don't want to sit there."
Through the rushing in his ears John thought he caught a hint of flirtation in Vala's tone, but honestly, he was tired enough that he gave even less of a damn than he usually did about such things.
"Sheppard, why the hell did you think that drop was a good idea? That's gotta be at least two stories worth!"
John blearily looked up as O'Neill gestured to the shattered remnants of the conference room window. He squinted at the blood smearing the concrete. Yeah… From down here that did seem like a hell of a drop. He fought through the weight of sheer fatigue that was threatening to render him completely incoherent, and slowly drawled,
"Well… You were trying to blow up the mountain sir. I didn't know if your doomsday doohickey would take the gate with it, and if the gate went up…" John frowned darkly to himself, "Well, you didn't see the aftermath of the Attero device."
"Attero?"
"Yeah that total clusterf- uh… disaster when Jackson came to Atlantis sir."
"Oh. That."
O'Neill rocked back on his heels and stared up at the shattered window for a long moment,
"Speaking of insane days at the office, seriously Sheppard? You must have seen through this farce?"
"In my defence I am operating on about two hours of sleep."
"You've done better on less."
"Yes… That's true sir. But this is after two months of trying not to murder all of the IOA every evening."
"Ah."
John blanched as he realised what he'd just admitted. He quickly looked up at O'Neill, ignoring the wave of dizziness that invoked, and caught the flicker of a smile there and gone so fast that he probably imagined it.
John hesitated when an airman tried to take his scavenged gear away, the zat vanished upwards.
"Hey! That's legitimate salvage."
The world smeared for a long moment.
After a sickening tilt-a-whirl of disorientation, he found himself staring up at the ceiling.
"Vala, help my Lieutenant Colonel get to Dr Lam's care. I need to have a word with Hank."
"Oh General, it would be my pleasure." A hand grasped his upper arm, "Come on beautiful."
Carolyn tutted at the fallout of her father's asinine decision to force the Atlantis colonel through off-world certification training. The base lockdown had been bad enough, though fortunately there'd been no serious injuries during the tense few hours when the bulkheads had sealed themselves shut. Just a panicked call from Dr Coombs down in his lab when he'd split his thumb open on a microscope slide. They'd been forced to talk him through cleaning and bandaging the wound over the phone. Thankfully when he finally made his way to the infirmary the cut hadn't been very serious.
O'Neill strolled in as if he owned the place. Lam might have bristled if it had been anyone else, patient care was paramount, military rank did not give anyone the right to override that. However, in a sense, the General had every right to act that way. Carolyn wasn't entirely sure if it was just his rank, or the fact that Jack O'Neill had been with the Stargate Programme since day one, but she'd noticed that everyone stood just that little bit taller when he was around.
"Hey Doc, you're about to get an uncooperative patient."
Carolyn felt an eyebrow raising,
"Pot, kettle, General? You forget, as head physician on this base, I've read your medical file. Dr Frasier was very explicit about-"
O'Neill waved her away impatiently,
"Yeah, yeah, I know. Three filing cabinets blah blah."
"Who is it?"
"Sheppard."
Carolyn did not huff, but it was a close-run thing. Lam would be having words with her father about this, she'd objected to the whole ridiculous charade from the beginning,
"Of course it is."
O'Neill shrugged his body language conveying 'what can you do?' in that charming schoolboy manner that all the officers at the SGC seemed to cultivate, Cam was just the same.
"What should I be looking out for?" she asked tersely.
"Well from the mission reports he'll probably disregard anything short of a fracture, and, even then."
"I meant specifically sir."
"Ah. Right yes, I knew that. He… took a bit of a fall."
"A fall?"
"Yeah in the gate room."
Lam immediately started mentally assembling the tests and equipment she'd need as the physician in her took over. She brusquely asked for the eyewitness information that would help make the assessment go that much more efficiently,
"Down the ramp?"
An exaggerated wince,
"No… No. I don't think he fell down the ramp."
"General..."
"He… ah… Jumped out of the conference room window."
Carolyn's questioning, "What?" was automatic and utterly flat.
O'Neill looked vaguely panicked.
"Yeah… He jumped down to the gate room floor and came up shooting." A quick glance away, "He ended up playing chicken with the gate."
"What."
He met her eyes with wide eyed innocence,
"I know!"
Carolyn tried to assess where she'd be able to put him, perhaps one of the private rooms? The casualties of the training exercise were still trickling in. Mostly it was just personnel needing to sleep off the hefty jolt from a Wraith stunner, but there were a few bruises and a sprain or two in there too. What it amounted to was an overflowing infirmary full of patients who'd need observation for the next few hours. There'd never been a recorded incident of serious effects from a wraith stun blast, but there was a first time for everything. Carolyn only hoped there wasn't an emergency to deal with in the meantime. She'd have nowhere for triage, let alone any beds. A voice echoed loudly down the corridor as yet another round of stretchers was carried to her domain,
"I'm fine. Go check on everybody else, there's a whole buncha scientists and soldiers down for the count on level 19, and level 20 that you should get checked out."
Vala's voice vehemently interrupted the little speech,
"Fine? Beautiful, that red stuff is supposed to be inside your body, not all over the floor."
"It's only a little blood. Some of those guys have probably lost all circulation by now, they're not exactly out in the open. Someone should really go let them out."
"Beautiful, seriously, stop it."
Carolyn met O'Neill's gaze in disbelief, he widened his eyes and nodded as if to say, 'yep, he's always like that.' Sure enough, the recumbent form of Colonel Sheppard was hauled into her extremely full infirmary still protesting that others should be treated first. Carolyn met Vala's eyes questioningly, at that moment Sheppard was proclaiming that he was 'fine', though to Lam's trained eye the fact that he hadn't made any attempt to get up was telling enough.
"Let's get him to a bed and assessed."
Even as Lam's team of nurses started stripping off his torn and bloodied uniform to get to the source of all the blood Sheppard was still objecting,
"Hey! You should see to the people I knocked out."
O'Neill, spotting their struggles rolled his eyes at Lam, and interrupted,
"Colonel, they're already here. We were following you on the CCTV the whole time. Everyone's accounted for."
At that Sheppard finally slumped down an acquiesced to their attempts to get him into a bed, Lam added her own mildly reproving,
"It's you we need to take care of now."
Lam tutted to herself as she realised just how deep the cuts liberally spread over the Colonel's arms and legs were in places. She gently palpated his abdomen to check for internal problems and was relieved when he didn't so much as flinch.
"Any breathing problems?" He shook his head in the negative, Lam caught the eye of the nurse who was busily cleaning the gash on his bicep," I want to get him under an MRI to check for internal bleeding."
"Yes Doctor."
"Hey, don't I get a say in this?"
"Oh hush Beautiful, you've proven you can't be trusted to look after yourself."
"Hey."
Lam got started on digging out glass from the Colonel's numerous lacerations, he bore it stoically enough that she realised his pain tolerance might be masking serious problems. It was going to be a long day. At least she'd have a decent excuse not to go to this evening's Stargate Command Asian Women's Society meetup. She'd send her regrets to Camile, she'd heard that Miko might be making an appearance too. Still, every cloud had a silver lining, it also meant she'd avoid Lisa Park. Carolyn couldn't stand Dr Park; the geologist was a complete and utter chatterbox who could witter on about absolutely nothing for hours. Worse, she was an absolute terror at squirreling out unfortunate information about who was dating who, or even if an unwanted crush may or may not be developing.
His head ached.
"Hank."
Yet strangely everything was numb.
"Hank."
Everything aside from that profoundly irritating voice that just would not go away.
"Hank!"
Landry came awake with a groan. Yanked from the peaceful darkness he immediately wanted to go back to. He had pins and needles all over. It was so intense it nearly burned.
"…Hank."
Landry lifted his arm up to rub at his aching head but was stymied by the familiar unwelcome pull of an IV line in the crook of his elbow. He growled at the intrusive voice,
"What do you want Jack?"
"Sheppard."
"What?" Hank tried to get his brain up to speed, "Wha- Why am I in the infirmary?"
"Well… Sheppard aced your little test."
"He did, did he?
"Yup."
"In fact," the now hated swooshing noise of the yoyo was the next thing Hank noticed, "he made a complete laughingstock of it. The SGC was completely shut off from the outside world for three hours Hank."
"Ah."
"Yeah… There was a spec ops squad topside preparing to storm the place when Major Davis finally got back in contact with us."
Despite the near miss the other man had just reported, Jack looked remarkably au fait about the idea. Hank gave into the impulse and groaned,
"Jesus."
Jack's voice was an infuriating singsong,
"I told you it was a terrible idea."
The yoyo swished again. Hank glared up at the Lt General standing at the foot of his bed,
"What do you want Jack?"
"Back Sheppard's efforts to get the Expedition back to Pegasus Hank, you know this whole guarding the rear thing the IOA is pushing for is just wrong."
Hank suddenly felt ancient,
"It's not that simple Jack, Atlantis has been siphoning off funding the SGC desperately needs for years now."
Jack's tone was sharp even as he looked completely preoccupied with the child's toy in his hands,
"Hank that's crap and you know it. The IOA just used that as an excuse for their penny-pinching. The latest batch of patents have just been declassified; you can forget that excuse."
"The IOA don't seem to think so."
Jack waved a hand airily.
"I'm working on it."
"Sheppard's a loose cannon that no one up high trusts."
At this Jack lost the playful air, Landry wanted to straighten up in response, but he was quite literally laid up,
"Instead of managing him, you responded to that by forcing him through a joke of a training scheme that ended up with him running the gauntlet against the gate! None of that is Sheppard's fault, we need those traits in a commander, on a gate team. You nurtured them in Mitchell. I've seen the way you stiffen up when Sheppard's in the room Hank. I'm not asking you to like the man, I know that'll never happen. But I don't expect you to deliberately put him in another situation where he's gonna try disintegrating himself."
Landry blanched as he remembered the scene in the gate room. Jack was right, a training exercise should never have ended up like that. Maybe things had gone a little too far.
"If a member of the SGC had been personally responsible for saving the Earth as many times as Sheppard has over the years, he'd be one of your favourites Hank. Like Mitchell. I know you cut him extra slack"
Hank chewed that one over. Yeah, he had been taking out the funding issues on the Expedition members It was true. Jack was right though,
"Alright. Your opinion has been noted."
Jack looked deadly serious, though his words undercut the seriousness of their conversation somewhat,
"It better be, or I'll take back the keys to my cabin."
Landry quietly chuckled.
"Yeah, look the funding thing might very well go away quicker than you think, McKay and the rest of the Atlantis science squad are working on the power issue for the Asgard Core. We might finally be able to use that thingamabob that makes something out of nothing properly."
"You mean the matter replicator?"
Jack put on a confused face,
"Is that what they're calling it? Look I don't even get the dumbed down explanation of how it works; I just keep telling the President it's magnets."
Landry didn't believe that for a second, but he let the convenient lie slide.
"Anyway, I'll be heading back to Homeworld tomorrow, now that we know things are going well at Dakara."
John was going to be stuck here for the next few hours. Dammit.
Sheppard really didn't get what all the fuss was about, he'd only needed a few stitches. The bruises weren't that bad, though they'd probably be spectacular in the morning. He'd refused Lam's offer of the strong painkillers, settling for Tylenol. He wanted a clear head about him.
A brigadier general Sheppard didn't recognise appeared next to his bed,
"Impressive work back there, Colonel."
"Uh thank you sir?"
A hand was thrust towards him, and John automatically reached out and shook it, only remembering the stitches when they pulled uncomfortably,
"Ah yes, we haven't met, General Kerrigan, I point the likely cadets in the SGC's direction whenever I get the chance."
"Ah… Good to meet you sir."
Sheppard awkwardly made some extremely small talk with the general but was thoroughly relieved when the man was shooed away by a nurse.
Eventually John convinced them that he was well enough to sit in the chair next to the bed he'd been assigned, rather than lie there for the rest of the damned day. Getting out of the blasted scrubs was beyond his persuasive skills, however. O'Neill appeared, and hovered worryingly at his bedside. From his position stuck in the infirmary on pain of the big needles and the wrath of Lam, John couldn't exactly slink away to metaphorically lick his wounds either.
O'Neill gestured to his temporary team; John had noticed them sidling in.
"So, Sheppard, what duty assignments would you give these three?"
O'Neill asked him right in front of the three trainees in question. Crap. He was beginning to get why some of the brass had always hated him, if, as Lorne kept insisting their command styles were kinda similar. John clambered to his feet. Oh well, BOHICA. Sheppard did his best to meet all three of their gazes in turn,
"Uh, well sir. I'd back all three with whichever assignment they wanted within the programme."
O'Neill shot him an unimpressed look, eyebrows raised as if to say, 'I asked for your opinion Airman Snuffy."
Scott giggled nervously. John swallowed back the sarcastic retort and trying to sound professional (and ignore the vulnerability of the scrubs) stated,
"Well, Lt Johansen deserves to be backed in whatever she chooses to do, sir. Be that go off to qualify as a doctor or continue with the programme." O'Neill opened his mouth, John powered forward, "But, if she decides to continue with the programme, I'd suggest she do a TDY on one of the BC-304s so she gets a taste of front-line medic duty with the SGC, gets the opportunity for training under a senior doc, and gets her feet wet."
O'Neill looked mollified. John already felt exhausted, this was more speaking about subordinates he kinda cared about than he'd had to do in months.
"Lt James here is a fine soldier. Her special ops training would be an asset to the programme, and with a little more practical experience of what to expect from an offworld encounter she'll make a fine specialist on a gate team."
James looked warily pleased. John grimaced it was the same sort of half-hearted praise he'd received from his superiors all too often, he continued,
"She's got truly excellent commando skills sir; I think she's more than earned her place here."
O'Neill was eyeing the trio speculatively, a gleam in his dark eyes that John didn't trust,
"Lt Scott here shows great promise. His willingness to do what he asks of his team is a trait we should all try and emulate, both here at the SGC and in Big Air Force." Sheppard gave Scott a direct look, "Now, I can't believe I'm saying this, but he could do with a little work on his impulse control, but he'll make a good officer here with a little more polish."
O'Neill looked pleased with John's assessment. He clapped his hands together,
"Sounds like they'll all be ready to go through the old orifice soon." Everyone stared at the older officer, he looked around feigning embarrassment but clearly relishing the attention," Yes, well. Good work Sheppard."
All the lieutenants slumped in relief. They looked so painfully young.
More than ever he felt his age as he stared at the too-young faces looking hopefully back at him. As ever he couldn't help but wonder to himself if he'd just signed their death warrants by okaying them. Though the logical part of his brain coolly pointed out that they'd be in the armed forces regardless of his input.
John turned to O'Neill and didn't wince as his knees creaked viciously at him, he'd played it down at the time, and afterwards they hadn't had the space to address it… But for all that his birth certificate said he was still only 39, he'd lost six months to those hippy Ancient wannabes… Which meant at a minimum he was already the wrong side of forty, god only knew how much time he'd lost to the 800 years trapped in a stasis pod waiting for that solar flare. Elizabeth, the old Elizabeth had been proof enough that the pods weren't 100% efficient. She'd been ancient, in the truest sense of the word, after 10,000 years in stasis, and John had lost nearly 1000 years to one. These days his joints ached, and he'd lost a full minute on his mile despite the long daily runs he still took with Ronon.
Relief rushed through him when the others finally left, John didn't even try to parse the message O'Neill had been trying to send him. He was truly exhausted. Sleep overtook him.
Colonel Dave Dixon glared at Sheppard. The stupid pansy ass freak was struttin around like he owned the place after causin a hell of a stink earlier. Still, it weren't his place to judge, Dave was only wildly enthusiastic about his work because he had four kids under the age of ten back home to contend with these days. He dearly loved his family, but a man needed his space.
He spotted another colonel giving Sheppard the stink-eye, he met Telford's gaze across the span of the officer's mess. Dave saw the same intent reflected back at him. Dixon got the silent message, yeah, they needed to teach the cocksure little shit a lesson, Sheppard's kind of theatrics got people killed. Dixon was uncomfortably aware of that; he'd learnt that lesson the hard way. The responsibility for Frasier's death sat heavy on his shoulders.
The other colonel subtly jerked his head, bussed his tray, and left the mess. He got the message alright. Dave kept eyeing the skinny streak of piss who'd shown them all up and was the guy who kept screwin them all over when the higher ups were handin out the green. If only the other officer weren't so damned cocksure, always flaunting the regulations. But the scuttlebutt was clear. Sheppard needed to be taught a lesson. Looked like Dave might get the chance to be the one to learn him.
He casually moseyed outside and followed Telford when he caught up with the other colonel in the corridor. They didn't say a word to one another, just two colonels who happened to be goin in the same direction.
Telford led him to a secluded storeroom that was filled with outdated MALPs needin to be sorted.
There was a flash of light.
Then nothing.
John could feel the stares prickling on the back of his neck, the crawling sensation of being watched, ever-present at the SGC, had heightened overnight. Damned training debacle. Internally steeling himself, face impassive behind the mask he'd perfected after years of fights with his father, Shep limped his way through the gauntlet of the SGC's mess hall. He hadn't even realised that he'd automatically picked up a butterscotch pudding cup for Rodney until he was staring at the unwanted sugary treat on his otherwise empty tray.
"Hello. Beautiful."
John glanced up surprised by the noise of a tray clattering down onto the table in his quiet bubble of isolation. Vala Mal Doran was leering at him appreciatively, reminding him uncomfortably of the looks Larrin kept giving him every time their paths crossed. Though somehow John had a feeling it was Vala's way of being friendly, rather than any real interest, in some ways her behaviour reminded him uneasily of his own.
"Hey."
Shep tried to keep his reply affably noncommittal, but he wasn't sure he managed it from the way Vala's grin widened.
"So… What's the military leader of Atlantis doing slumming it down here with the rest of us proles? Don't you have a beautiful, treasure filled city to run?"
"The IOA don't seem to think so."
John was dismayed by how bitterly honest his response was, he hadn't meant to say that. Vala gamely ignored his poleaxed expression. She made a gesture that could have meant anything from 'Please, tell me all about it' to 'I honestly couldn't give less of a damn about what you're talking about'.
"Well, Beautiful," this time John could hear the capitalisation, "I'm sure your takeover of the SGC yesterday got them to pay attention."
John tried not to squirm uncomfortably at the nickname,
"Sure. For all the wrong reasons."
"Oh honey, hadn't you heard? There's no such thing as bad publicity."
With a clatter of utensils Cam Mitchell unceremoniously joined in the conversation, dumping his plastic dinner tray down next to Vala's unusual selection of fruit and meat.
"Bad publicity? Vala have you been watching too much TV again? What is it this time, Dancing with the Stars? Hey, Shep."
"Why Cameron I didn't know you cared." Vala sniffed haughtily, "And no for your information, it's Battlestar Galactica. That Dr Baltar is yummy!"
Cam was mouthing 'Battlestar?' from opposite John's seat at the table, John could clearly see the confusion on Mitchell's face, clearly not a sci-fi fan then, unlike most Lanteans. Vala leaned over and cartoonishly fluttered her eyelashes at Cam. Having been told he was a shameless flirt himself; John didn't read too much into it, he never noticed when he was supposedly insulting people's daughters. Though he figured that Vala's brand of flirting was probably a deliberate layer of armour rather than mostly unknowing obliviousness.
"Heard about you taking over the base. Landry had kittens." Mitchell's voice went accusatory, "Thanks for locking me in his office by the way man. They only remembered I was in there four hours later."
John groaned, he pushed his tray aside and cradled his head in the nest his crossed arms formed on the table. A hand started stroking his hair, Sheppard resisted the urge to jerk violently away with an effort.
"There there, Beautiful." It was Vala, somehow John had figured it wasn't Cam, "It's not so bad. Did you know I gave birth to the leader of the Ori army that wanted to enslave the whole galaxy, and all the sentient races therein. And look at me! I'm now a valued member of SG-1."
In a loud stage whisper Vala said,
"Hey how come your hair isn't this soft?"
"Vala!"
"Now Cameron don't be jealous, there's none of that sticky gunk you insist on slathering your hair in at all. I thought you said that Sheppard only got his hair like that with half a tub of industrial strength polymers every morning?"
There was a heartfelt groan from somewhere to John's left,
"For shame Cameron! His hair is perfectly lovely."
"Vala."
Her next statement was disturbingly thoughtful,
"And he's not from the same limited genetic stock that you and Daniel share either."
John turned his head and squinted suspiciously up at Cam,
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Mitchell shot John a helpless look,
"You should be asking Vala that."
She was still stroking his hair, behind him John heard her exclaim,
"Ooh!"
Cam looked pained.
"Hey Beautiful. Are you going to eat that?"
"Wha-?" Sheppard loosely rolled his head around to face her, the perpetual late nights arguing his piece with the IOA were taking their toll, "Eat what?"
Sheppard heard, and ignored, Cam's cautious,
"Man Shep, be careful, she's already got you responding to that stupid nickname."
Vala picked up the butterscotch pudding and gestured with it.
"Oh, no go ahead."
"Look Cameron, another Earth delicacy I'd yet to try. And Beautiful here was kind enough to give me his one."
"Yeah yeah Vala. Least I know how to cook."
Since he was facing her way Sheppard saw as she childishly poked out her tongue (covered grotesquely in butterscotch pudding) before focusing back on her filched dessert.
"If you say so Cam, don't look so smug, I've tasted your macaroons. Besides John here might know how to cook. Can you cook Colonel?"
"Sure, if you count MREs."
Vala beamed again,
"See Cameron? He can cook."
Mitchell was chuckling helplessly at her antics. He turned to Sheppard, still laughing,
"Sure he can… I'm not convinced bag nasties count."
Sheppard shrugged uncomfortably, deciding not to mention the land squid and other Pegasus field rations. Teyla's tuttleroot soup made the box and bag nasties look downright appetising. Vala pulled another face at Mitchell, then seeming to consider something looked down at John and stage whispered,
"Hey John darling, did I ever tell you that story about how Cameron here keeps losing his pants? There's a betting pool on how long he'll make it before it happens again if you want to get in on the action?"
This time it was Mitchell's turn to let out a heartfelt groan.
Given the abrupt way the training exercises had ended, John decided to spend the morning practicing on the firing range. He still periodically flashed on O'Neill's face, glaring at Landry like the wrath of god, or… well given the number of gods O'Neill had killed over the years the wrath of something that even gods feared.
Since he hadn't really had the chance to get his eye in with anything but an Intar lately, Sheppard decided to check on his skills not only with his own weapons, but the more unfamiliar stuff that he suddenly had access to, now that he was stationed at the SGC for the foreseeable future.
A few marines wandered into the range, joking amongst themselves, clearly curious about John's performance. John wasn't sure if that was due to his infamy as the Atlantis expedition base commander, or, more likely, what had happened yesterday…
John took the time to thoroughly service his side-arm, not just the standard cleaning/inspection that he habitually carried out daily, but a complete breakdown/build up. Ever since the Expedition had regained contact with earth at the end of the First Year, John had upgraded from the standard Nato-grade M9 Beretta 92FS, with its 15 round capacity 9mm magazine to a fairly expensive (but hell, he hadn't spent his pay check on anything for a year, actually he hadn't been spending his pay on anything significant since after the divorce so he had plenty of cash) 1911.
His .45ACP Para-Ordnance P-14-45 Limited had accurized sights, ambidextrous trigger, bobbed and skeletonised speed-safety, and to top it off, unlike a standard single-stack 1911, was fitted for doublestack magazines with a 14 round capacity, yet still fired .45s. Larger .45 rounds were much more likely to make a wraith stop and think twice than the 9mm rounds of the Beretta.
Once he finished with his primary weapon, Sheppard moved onto his back-ups, another customised .45 1911, and a standard military issue Beretta, one that, when not topside on Earth, John carried in an ankle holster – having long since learnt his lessons about wraith and keeping some sort of concealed weapon for when you'd been caught.
John made sure that he could remember how to handle a P-90, then moved on to several other ballistic options available to practice with. Remembering his Marines' disdain for the P-90, and the sheer number of times they'd been sent the basic model, rather than the more useful scoped gun John snarked to himself,
"Here at Aperture ScienceTM we fire the whole bullet, that's 65 percent more bullet, per bullet!"
John moved onto the wraith stunners, checking that he could still make body shots at the very least with the unwieldy weapons – though after yesterday he barely needed the practice. The Wraith, naturally, scaled everything for themselves, and when the average drone was 2 metres tall… Well – their stunners, both the handheld pistol-like models and the huge spear-like rifles were similarly oversized. John was pleasantly surprised to see that he'd improved some on the stunners, if he was judging it right the energy dissipation pattern showed he was making both the centre mass shots and headshots most of the time. (It was difficult to judge with a weapon that left no visible mark on your target)
Next John moved onto the zat, he'd wanted to thoroughly test one of these things since day 1. But Atlantis had never been issued any, and there'd never been time when he was on base here before. Or rather, John had been on best behaviour given the stick up Landry's ass, and he hadn't wanted to do anything that could be misinterpreted. Now though? After he'd accidentally on purpose singlehandedly shut down the entirety of stargate command?
Screw it.
He was going to enjoy this tech whilst he still could, before they kicked him out of the programme.
The zat? His initial first impression remained sadly accurate. The zat was one of the most awkward weapons he'd ever wielded, awkward to hold, slow to fire, inaccurate firing that didn't systematically pull too far to the left or the right just drifted around all over the place, and that inaccuracy increased the longer you kept up a burst of fire. Huh. Still, it was damned convenient that 3 hits, anywhere on the target, disintegrated the target. That was fun. Or horrifying. John couldn't decide. Maybe both?
The staff weapon was even worse. Extremely slow to fire, frustratingly inaccurate. But the shots it fired overpowered even Ronon's ridiculous gun when it was set to kill – if it weren't for the special energy dissipating backboard John was sure he'd have been taking huge chunks out of the batting at the back of the range. Not to mention, forget pistol-whipping, you could club someone to death with one of these things from a distance. With no need to worry that you were wrecking your weapon.
Normally time on the range quieted any jitters that John was feeling but given the meeting with Landry scheduled later that afternoon, and the stares that prickled uncomfortably on his neck everywhere he went, Sheppard was still feeling restless when he'd exhausted the mental list of firearms he'd wanted to test himself on. In the end he somehow ended up in the gym, bantos rods out, clumsily working his way through one of the newer katas that Teyla had deemed he was ready for. It was quite a step up from the previous level, or whatever the hell you called it in Bantos fighting, but, well, John had been practicing the method of defence/offense for 5 years now. If he wasn't at least a little-competent by now, he never would be. Screw it, Lam's imprecations or not, John knew his own body, and it had only been a few stitches.
Ronon always laughed, that Teyla was still able to kick John's ass so regularly. But John had never minded, she was a formidable warrior who'd been practicing hand to hand, and armed styles her entire life. John was just happy she was willing to teach him, even when, frequently he found he didn't have the time to practice as often as she (or he) would like, given the whole running a base out in the arse-end of another galaxy thing. The paperwork alone was nearly a full-time job, let alone the daily peril and the running for your life.
As John wound down from the meditative state these solo practices tended to bring out, he realised that he'd gathered quite an audience. Crap. He'd automatically assessed them as a threat, and then noting their positions, moved on when they weren't hostile. But John hadn't consciously registered their presence at all, that was embarrassing.
"Colonel Sheppard."
"Uh – Hi Teal'c, good to see you again."
"Indeed."
John rubbed the sweat off his neck with his towel and tried not to look too curious,
"What are you doing back on base? I heard negotiations with the numerous Free Jaffa nations were going well, and you guys were all trying to work out who would get first dibs at salvaging Dakara?"
See? John could so keep up with the politics of the milky way.
"Indeed, Colonel Sheppard, in fact negotiations went so smoothly that they ended nearly a week early."
"Huh."
"Yes. Master Bra'tac commented that it was a once in a century event. I have merely returned to the SGC to, as you Tau'ri say, check in on my team, before we move on to Dakara tomorrow."
Teal'c cracked a smile. It was slightly terrifying, though no worse than Ronon when he was feeling playful.
"Tomorrow on Dakara is in fact, early evening here on earth. I shall be obliged to leave before any other members of SG-1 return to the base."
John raised an eyebrow at that, unsure if Teal'c was cracking a joke, or if he genuinely believed that John didn't understand the difference between planetary orbits and rotations. It was so hard to tell when Teal'c was pulling your leg, John had a suspicion that 90% of his 'oh woe is me I am an ignorant alien' act was precisely that, an act. The man could quote the entirety of Star Wars more accurately than Rodney for god's sake! John had been impressed, the physics team on Atlantis had practically adopted Teal'c as their dual god and bodyguard at that stage. John belatedly realised he hadn't replied,
"Uh. Good?"
"Colonel Sheppard, I should very much like to spar with you."
"Uh. What?"
John internally groaned at his automatic response. Way to go John, great answer. 10/10 good job.
"Excellent."
"Uh…"
John noticed that the crowd had not dissipated, in fact it had grown. Crap. This was his comeuppance for not stopping the betting pool that time Ronon and Teal'c had beat the crap out of each other. Though, considering how much he'd managed to skim off the top that day from Chuck, he still kinda thought it had been worth it. Even with the fact that Carter had chosen a pretty inventive punishment; one that John didn't like to think about. He still couldn't look a cup of blue jello in the face.
Trying not to visibly gulp at the gleam in Teal'c's eye, John took a moment to be grateful that he was feeling warm and limber right now. He had a sinking feeling that he wouldn't be feeling so spry in an hour's time.
John raised his bantos rods to the ready position. One stick prepared to guard his side, the other raised in front of him.
Teal'c spun his practice staff a few times, and assumed a stance that John guessed was the Jaffa equivalent of 'come at me bro'.
Teal'c nodded.
And was suddenly upon him.
John reflexively moved his sticks to block a blow that felt like it could have crushed his skull. His arms were still reverberating with the impact, even as he backpedalled, using his agility John deliberately ducked down and well within the range of the longer stave. This close the reach of the staff was no longer an advantage, John quickly rose and swept his own sticks up and around to land a series of hits to Teal'c's upper arm and wrists, trying to force him to drop his weapon.
Teal'c didn't even flinch.
With a speed belied by his size, Teal'c swept his staff backwards, John ducked again and brought his stick to bear on Teal'c's ankle as he rolled out of harm's way.
Screw looking cool. He did not want to get hit.
John felt an impact on the back of his calf, even as his momentum continued to carry him forward and back out of Teal'c's reach.
Ouch. Crap. That hurt like a motherf-
John spun around readying himself for the next blow, making sure to keep his guard up. Sure enough, the staff whipped out lightning quick, the clack! of wood hitting wood echoing hollowly around the training room.
Quick as a whip, John brought his other stick up to bear, and tried to wrest the staff out of Teal'c's grip, which faltered momentarily. Teal'c's eyes widened, then narrowed. He grinned fiercely. Teal'c obviously surprised that John would attempt such an idiotic tactic.
The speed of the fight redoubled after that.
Already sweating John cursed internally, that had been the warmup?!
The next few minutes passed in a blur of strike, block, strike, duck, roll.
Both fighters instinctively blocking hits without hesitation or conscious thought.
What felt like hours later, John misjudged his reach, and overextended himself.
The next thing he knew Tea'c's staff had tangled with his bantos rod, his arm was caught in a lock, and he was lying on his back on that mat.
John felt that the fight ended humiliatingly quickly, but from the jeers of the crowd that finally penetrated through the rush of do or die that Sheppard always struggled to achieve during a training match, they didn't seem to think so.
"Well fought Colonel Sheppard."
A hand reached down to help him up,
"I should very much like to spar with you again."
"Uh, me too big guy."
Teal'c grinned. He grinned. It was chilling.
The soldiers that had surrounded them were dispersing whilst John was busy being embarrassed by Teal'c's praise. Terrifyingly Teal'c frowned,
"Colonel Sheppard, you are bleeding."
John looked down at his arm and realised he must have torn some stitches, blood was seeping out from beneath his t-shirt sleeve,
"Uh…"
In a brusque, business-like manner Teal'c rapidly stripped John of his shirt. From somewhere in the gym there was a gasp. What, what?
"Colonel Sheppard, I did not do this today."
For all that the big guy's words were a statement, is was phrased as a question, Teal'c's brows were raised but somehow, he looked furious.
John looked down, his torso was black and blue. Nasty dark purple blotches were spread over most of his left side. Oh, huh yeah that had come up spectacularly. He hadn't even felt it earlier.
The adrenaline and frustration drained away.
The pain took its place.
John grimaced.
"Ow."
"Indeed. I shall escort you to Dr Lam's care."
"Oh man, Doc's gonna be furious with me."
Teal'c's expression was implacable, John's shoulders slumped.
"Alright, let's go face the reaper."
Sure enough, Lam was furious with him,
"I released you to light duty Colonel. Light."
Her prodding didn't feel very gentle.
"Ow."
She shot an exasperated look his way,
"In what possible universe does sparring with Teal'c constitute light? No don't answer that."
She brusquely checked him over, pointedly used medical glue instead of stitches, and forced a bottle of muscle relaxers on him. When John opened his mouth to protest, she'd shot him a look that was every bit as scary as Teal'c's.
After another lecture, and some stern definitions of what exactly light duty entailed he finally escaped Lam's clutches. Teal'c surprised John yet again, he'd been on the verge of slinking off to lick his metaphorical, and not so metaphorical, bruises, when the Jaffa turned a piercing look his way,
"Colonel Sheppard, I understand that you too bear the burden of having seen a possible future."
John almost jumped, he'd almost forgotten the big guy was there,
"Uh. Yes?"
"I too have witnessed my teammates make it to old age and seen possible future relationships for them."
"Huh."
He chewed on his lip, that was news to John alright.
"Tell me, have you ever considered acting upon what you witnessed?"
John rubbed at the back of his neck,
"Well… Some of its sorta come true already."
"Really?"
"Oh yeah. See…"
Vala watched with interest as an irritable little man made his way down the corridor. He was stalking along, moving at a brisk pace that forced his fellow pedestrians to move aside, or be run over. And yet he was so slight, she'd have called him delicate, if not for the pent-up energy pouring off him.
A tall, equally angry looking Colonel called out, "Dr Rush."
The newly named Rush nodded curtly and replied, "Colonel Telford." Rush kept stalking down the corridor. Telford ran to catch up, and halted him by grabbing at his upper arm,
"Listen, I've heard you cracked the fourth chevron."
Rush pointedly eyed the offending hand, and when Telford made no move to remove it, shook himself free. He took a step back, crossed his arms and sarcastically bit out,
"Why yes, hello to you too David. How was your weekend?"
Telford grinned nastily, "As if you give a damn Rush. Did you even take a weekend?"
"Well, no."
"Exactly my point. Any progress on the other cyphers?"
"Not as of yet, one of them is almost certainly musical."
"Musical?"
"Yes." Rush's bitten off hiss there must have finally gotten his impatience across as Telford lifted his hands as if in surrender and took a step back.
"Hey, I'm only asking because we might have found a planet with a suitable naquadria core to meet the power requirements. The IOA are talking about putting a rush on building a base there."
"Really?" Rush's tone seemed to convey his complete and utter disinterest in the news. Telford scowled and spat,
"I just thought you'd like to know. I've got to go, meeting." And did his own stalking down the corridor.
Vala took the opportunity to catch up to Rush "Hello Lovely. Fancy meeting you here."
Rush blinked at her in bewildered surprise. Adorable.
"Yes yes, nice to meet you."
He continued on his way, Vala kept pace. The irascible Tau'ri scientist didn't seem to notice. Vala decided to remind him that she was there,
"What's got you in such a hurry, gorgeous?"
He nearly jumped out of his skin,
"Oh nothing."
The evasive reply only piqued her curiosity. Vala decided at once to take more of an interest in the grumpy little Tau'ri scientist. She grinned her most toothy grin at him, which widened impossibly further when it was met with a look of utter distrust.
"Colonel Reynolds, report."
Albert responded to the formality in Landry's tone, he came as close to attention as he could with his arm in a cast,
"Yessir."
"Albert, at ease, this isn't a formal debrief. I want your opinion on Trainee Team Three's performance this month."
"Ah, you mean Colonel Sheppard sir?"
Landry looked tired,
"Yes, about Sheppard."
"Well, I didn't witness his actions when he thought it was a real firefight, but he seems a decent leader. Made sure to use his team's strengths but didn't neglect bolstering up their weaknesses either."
"I see."
Reynolds took a chance, Landry had always been a fair CO,
"Permission to speak freely?"
"Of course."
"I.. I really don't see why you sent him on that course sir. He did well by his team, but no way did he need to be there. Especially not with the IOA meetings running every night."
"Yeah."
Landry rubbed a hand over his face,
"Alright Reynolds give me the specifics on the team's performance, would you?"
John got to the conference room just as the previous meeting was breaking up. As well as General Landry, Dr Lam was there, Dr Jackson too, Colonel Telford, Carson, Dr Keller, Major Davis, and General O'Neill. No one would quite meet his eye, from the expressions on people's faces whatever the discussion had been hadn't gone well.
Dr Jackson's colour was still up, Telford looked furious, though from the few times John had seen the guy around, he always looked furious, so John wasn't convinced that meant anything. O'Neill looked grim and tired. Lam was glaring daggers, and Carson wouldn't look up from the papers he was busying himself with at the table. He and Keller looked especially squirrely.
Last John had heard Keller was visiting her family, trying to cajole Rodney to come with her, and Carson had been training up new SGC medical recruits down at Area 51. What the hell? They knew he was stuck in the mountain by himself, and. And what? He'd thought they were his friends?
Out of the corner of his eye John eyed up the documents that Carson was still shuffling anxiously, the more he tried to quickly tidy everything away, the more flustered the man got. The paperwork looked kinda like a medical report? John didn't want to be caught trying to ogle something he really wasn't supposed to know about, and yet…
What the hell was going on?
What was so important, and needed so many personnel, senior medical staff from Atlantis too? Yet was secretive enough that they'd made damned sure that Woolsey was out of the mountain, and John distracted (if it hadn't been for… yesterday, John would be at the alpha site by now).
Landry shooed everyone out of the conference room overlooking the gate, shot a pointed look at the lack of glass in the window, and ushered John into his office, shutting the door with an ominous click,
"Colonel Sheppard!"
Landry's expression was weird,
"Reporting as ordered sir."
"At ease man, relax Colonel you passed the training exercise with flying colours."
Huh.
"Colonel Reynolds was very impressed."
"Thank you sir."
"Though he'll be relieved to get back to full duty next week. That broken arm of his meant he was supposed to be on light duty, but he seems to believe running the training programme is more stressful than his usual job!"
Landry smiled at that, his expression implying that he'd found something amusing, that nevertheless wasn't funny.
"Anyway, consider yourself recertified for gate travel Colonel."
Landry smiled at him, John didn't believe it for a moment. The brass was never nice. It had been one of the bigger mistakes that had clued him in when the mist people had tried to trick them into thinking they were back on Earth. Hammond had been solicitous, in John's experience that simply never happened. Nothing had changed to alter his opinion. The brass hated his guts, only now Atlantis was suffering for it, not just his career. John was damned if he'd let the people who served under him suffer for his unpopularity, it was why he always made sure to be on time with his paperwork and was so deliberate about giving praise and credit where credit was due.
"Jack told me you've been burning the midnight oil." Landry shot John a considering look that was half fatherly concern, half accusation, "You should have told me you were double booked Colonel."
"Uh yessir?"
"Consider yourself on medical leave for the next few days. Mr Woolsey says the IOA need to go off and deliberate anyway."
John rocked back on his heels, feeling slightly stunned. Landry scowled,
"Don't thank me all at once Colonel."
Landry prodded, oh oops. John tried for a grateful smile, he was sure he'd missed by a mile when Landry frowned in response,
"Thank you sir."
"Dismissed."
John staggered from the room in stunned disbelief.
It was the first evening without IOA meetings block scheduled that Sheppard had had for weeks. He'd been using the promised night of freedom as a motivator for himself for ages, even with the knowledge that he'd be stuck at the Alpha site when it happened. So of course, what happens as soon as the longed-for evening turns up?
Sheppard literally didn't know what to do with himself. He caught himself ruminating over the thrice damned meetings rather than managing anything even loosely resembling relaxation. He ended up staring at the wall in his quarters, trying, and failing, to distract himself.
The months had taken their toll. Expedition members kept getting reassigned left right and centre. Carter and O'Neill had come up with a scheme to follow the IOA's mandate, whilst undermining their attempts to force Atlantis to remain earthbound. Any member of the expedition that got reassigned was immediately offered a place on the George Hammond, with it made explicit that the duty assignment was offered as a means to wait out the IOA's machinations regarding the Ancient city. So far 90% of the people they'd have otherwise lost had said yes.
Sheppard, and the expedition were in a better position than they'd been last time they'd effectively been kicked off the city. Those months on Earth after the Alterans had thrown them out had lost him a lot of good people when all was said and done. However, John feared that the attrition rate would only increase as the months wore on. Fortunately, with O'Neill's backing both the Hammond and Daedalus were going to make relay runs out to Pegasus, keep up their pact with their allies and the Coalition, keep sending relief supplies to people who desperately needed them and keep bringing the war to the wraith whilst they were on the backfoot.
The Hammond was still shiny and brand new, but her first real test was coming up, she was due to make the intergalactic voyage to Pegasus at the end of the month. With all the expedition members on the crew manifest, John hoped it would be clear Atlantis never truly left. It chafed; he was stuck here politicking whilst the war with the Wraith raged in Pegasus.
John sighed and rubbed at his eyes, as he tried to work up the energy to go and do something. No one else from the Expedition was in town, John paranoidly checked after that meeting. Carson and Keller had vanished as soon as they'd arrived. Woolsey had apologetically given his regards and immediately boarded a flight to Washington DC after last night's fruitless meeting, Rodney was still giving scientists nervous breakdowns at Area 51, Teyla and Ronon were both stuck on Atlantis, though Ronon wanted to join the Hammond as soon as possible. Lorne was off doing IOA duty with the SGC's Pentagon rep – Major Davis? The list continued.
It was as if the SGC didn't trust the expedition members not to stage a coup or something if they left enough of them in the same room together.
John blinked, realised he was still sat staring at the grey concrete wall in his temporary quarters at the SGC - he'd been chewing on things he might not be able to change for over an hour. Rubbing his face harshly he sighed, John was up on level 15, exiled to the mass housing for personnel that weren't deemed that important. John knew he was lucky to have a room to himself, most officers shared two to a bunk, let alone the barracks situation the enlisted had to deal with. The deliberate snub was yet another clue as to the likelihood of Atlantis ever getting to go back.
There was a knock on the door. Huh. John sprung up from his sprawled position on the bed, eased the kinks out of his back when all his bruises protested loudly, remembered that he hadn't locked the door, and called out,
"Come in!"
"Hello Beautiful."
It was Vala. She slinked over and sat herself in his lap. John grinned sleepily up at her; they'd gotten on the few times they'd met in the past. Besides he'd had fun hanging out with her and Mitchell earlier, despite all the stares.
"John, I'm bored. Bored bored bored."
John put on what he hoped was a sympathetic face,
"Darling Daniel is on base; he won't even come and say hello!" John was surprised by that news; last he'd heard Daniel was heading up a renewed linguistic and anthropological effort to understand what the hell the Ancients had been thinking when they'd organised the insanity that was Atlantis's database. He'd assumed that Jackson had immediately gone back to that, like Carson and Keller apparently had.
Vala pouted, though John thought he saw genuine upset lurking beneath the mask of theatrical childishness.
"Come and join us? We can see if we can make him have some fun together?"
"We?"
"Cameron and I thought we should say hello, but Daniel buried himself in his books as soon as he got back. He's been at it for hours!"
John flashed on Daniel's face as he'd filed out of that meeting, and chose not to say anything,
"Yeah sure. Why not? Sounds good."
"Excellent!" Vala turned around and shouted through the door, "Cam! He said yes! Let's go find Daniel."
Considering her mission a success, Vala sashayed down the corridor to Daniel's office, her two boys following behind her like… ducklings? Vala thought that was what Samantha had called those small fluffy baby birds.
Vala noted that Daniel's large selection of books and research materials were still obstructing most of the hall. She turned to Cam and rolled her eyes. When he was in full research mode Daniel could be single-minded to the point of severely damaging his own health. According to Mitchell that was typical of most scientists at the SGC, but Sam had always seemed able to strike that balance.
Peering cautiously around the doorway Vala tried to analyse the tactical situation, Daniel wasn't making any progress, she could tell by the frustrated twist to his mouth, and the frown that creased his forehead. It was probably safe to interrupt.
Vala reached across and deliberately shut the massive academic tome that said 'Isis and Osiris: Origins of an Origin Myth' on its cover.
"Daniel, darling. Why don't you take a break?"
"Not now Vala."
"Daniel I'm going stir crazy," Vala leaned over him and resting her head on Daniel's shoulder issued the by now traditional threat, "And I'm taking you with me!"
Daniel merely rolled his eyes at her, giving her an unimpressed look. Vala turned pleading eyes on Cameron, he could usually cajole Daniel into listening,
"Daniel, come on man, you've been at this all day. What's a short break gonna hurt anything? Side's what's up with the sudden Egyptology kick anyways? I thought you were trying to sort out the Alteran language drift in Pegasus compared to us Milky Way folks?"
"I was! But I found reference to a parasitical War Queen and…"
Daniel spun around in his office chair, probably preparing to say something cutting, and spotted John,
"Oh, hello Colonel Sheppard."
Sheppard looked just as standoffish as Daniel did, and Sheppard didn't have the excuse of arguing with two close friends without realising he had company. Huh. Vala wondered if she'd be able to ferret the truth out about that. She couldn't quite decide if it was Daniel specifically that was causing it, or just Sheppard being awkward around people generally. The dark-haired man had been looking generally edgy every time she'd seen him.
John shifted uncomfortably and said, "John's fine Dr Jackson."
Vala noted that Sheppard had tensed right up again in Daniel's presence, just when she'd gotten him to unwind from that stiff uncomfortable posture too. No, it was more than just standoffishness, she doubted she'd be able to get him to relax again any time soon. By Hathor's saggy tits, negotiating Tau'ri social niceties could be so exhausting! Huffing to herself, Vala snapped,
"Oh, come on Daniel. You know you aren't going to get anywhere tonight."
"Vaaalaaa…"
Vala fluttered her eyelashes at him,
"You rang darling?" Daniel scowled again, his mouth pouting adorably.
It was too easy to wind Daniel up sometimes, Cam snorted behind her and said,
"Come on Jackson, it's been weeks since we've seen each other. How about a catch up with old friends? You missed Teal'c earlier you know."
Daniel sounded wonderfully put out, "I missed Teal'c? …Oh, alright. But I'm going to keep working. This is important."
They enjoyed about half an hours' worth of bickering before there was a commotion in the hallway outside, a heavily accented voice exclaiming,
"Get out of her way!"
Vala went outside to investigate, closely followed she noted by Colonel Sheppard, and immediately spotted what all the fuss was about. Dr Amanda Perry and the small sullen man who'd caught Vala's interest, Doctor Rush, were unable to pass the blockage in the hallway. Reassuringly Dr Perry's caregiver was with the pair, even Vala was aware of the importance of Dr Perry's needs.
To his credit Sheppard didn't even blink when he saw Dr Perry, he just said, "Hi." In that quiet drawl of his, and "Ah, I see what the problem is." and got to work shifting boxes.
When she'd first met Dr Perry Vala had immediately offered her services with a Goa'uld healing device. The Earth scientists had all scoffed at the offer, but Vala had seen sarcophagi bring people back from death. These Tau'ri kept forgetting everything that Vala could do for them, usually she liked being underestimated, preferred it even, but that brush off had been unforgivable.
It had only been Amanda's reassurance that the best doctors Earth had to offer had been unable to do anything that had gotten Vala to back off, but Vala had been convinced that five minutes with a hand device, and she'd have Doctor Perry up and out of that wheelchair and able to walk again. Vala thoroughly respected Doctor Perry's stance on no more surgeries, which the medical doctors had all told her would be necessary to remove all that old calcified scar tissue and the vertebrae fusing pins to enable a hand device to have a hope in hell. All the preparative surgery would come at near certain risk of death, which Dr Perry wasn't prepared to take when she had so much work to complete. Vala had had to be satisfied with, 'maybe, some day.'
"Dr Perry! I'm so sorry!"
That was Daniel, whilst Vala had been reflecting, he'd finally noticed the commotion. Dr Perry schooled her face from the exasperated amusement she'd been trying not to show Doctor Rush, into an expression of quizzical fondness. Dr Rush on the other hand was still glowering fiercely,
"I really am very sorry, I meant to put all this stuff away as soon as I got back, then I found out about that damned meeting General Landry was holding cos Jack let it slip. The one I wasn't invited to, and I had to run, everything's been such a mess."
As Daniel prattled on, he was already moving the heavy crates of books out of the Doctors' path,
"Really Amanda, I can't apologise enough, if you want me to do or get you anything to say sorry, just name it."
If anything, Rush's scowl got even darker at that, Vala knew it was just Daniel being Daniel, he'd be like this for anyone. But Rush seemed to think it was related to Dr Perry's disability, then again Vala had seen the way people tended to stare, and stutter in her presence. It seemed to go one of two ways, either they were so uncomfortable around her that they practically ran away, or they were far too attentive, as if they were trying to prove, that no, really, they saw past the electric wheelchair, and the ventilator, and could see the person. Vala supposed she understood Rush's reaction there. She'd learnt in the last few years how much it hurt to see a friend, someone you cared about, being subjected to any sort of iniquity.
With a flourish Cam removed the last of the boxes, and bowed theatrically,
"Ladies," Cam shot an exaggerated look Rush's way, "Gentleman. We apologise for the interruption to your daily routine." He gave an over the top bow that had Dr Perry giggling, and even Rush's lips twitching. Dr Perry's carer, Mary, grinned at him, and the trio moved on.
Interruption over they settled back into Daniel's office,
"R-right. Ookay so that happened." Daniel looked sheepish, "Thanks for the help guys. Maybe I should take a break, you're right Vala, I wasn't getting anywhere anyway."
The book was closed decisively.
Vala beamed in response.
John leaned back, content to let the conversation wash over him. Vala was busying herself in the corner - mysterious clinking noises, and alarming gurgling had been issuing from behind the fish tank for a while. John was morbidly curious about whatever was going on whilst she was blocking his view, so really wasn't paying that much attention to the main conversation.
"What do you think John?"
Crap, what? John looked up, Mitchell was staring at him quizzically,
"I… I think that's an interesting question?"
Mitchell cracked up,
"Man, Shep were you paying any attention? I can see why the brass love you."
"Hey!" John's objection was half-hearted, it was true, and Mitchell was only teasing.
Daniel squinted in John's direction, "I thought you were supposed to have a brain in there." He looked away dismissively, "Maybe McKay was right about that hair growing roots."
At the latest snide comment about John's intelligence from Jackson, Vala swept across the room and shoved a tall glass full of something muddily green under John's nose,
"Oh leave him alone Daniel. Whilst you've been hunting out treasure in his city, poor John has been stuck here pretending to listen to what those IOA morons think." Daniel looked mildly chagrined, "Here darling, it's called an Ori De-hallower."
Daniel made a face, and mimed retching. John scowled at him in response. John (of all people!) kept catching the flashes of genuine hurt that Vala was leaking out from behind her armour, and yet Jackson, anthropologist extraordinaire, who'd managed to convince a whole tribe of lizard-men that had wanted to eat him for dinner to swear unending fealty to him, remained wilfully oblivious. Not to mention John still hadn't quite forgiven Jackson for that mess with the evil Asgard in Pegasus. He'd nearly blown up Atlantis. Hell, several planets with sizeable human populations had blown up.
"Thanks Vala."
Pointedly John took a large gulp. Eh. It wasn't great. A bit too salty. A truly bizarre combination of flavours from the gin and the coffee liqueur and the whatever the hell the vivid green stuff was. But he'd had much worse, and that was just on earth. He wasn't counting the innumerable ritual potions, and the nearly-cow stew, or mystery meat goulash with unknowable spices that Atlantis's mess regularly served up. Not to mention the unspeakable things he'd eaten on numerous planets over the years. Besides, it was alcoholic, extremely so from the way it was trying to melt his sinuses.
John quickly took another huge swallow and grinned sunnily up at Vala, from his corner Mitchell shot John a grateful look. From the relief practically steaming off him John gathered that Jackson and Vala had been gearing up for round two of poke the other person where it hurts.
The conversation meandered away again,
"Daniel I will never understand you." Vala declared, "All that treasure, and all you ever want to do is catalogue it."
"Yes. Well. Excuse me if I don't give the opinion of a known thief much weight." The sarcasm dripped from Jackson's voice.
"I thought we agreed that I'd proved myself and was a valued member of SG-1 who brought a unique skillset to the team." Vala was aiming for lightly teasing, but there was an undeniable quaver to her tone. Jackson didn't seem to notice; he opened his mouth as if preparing to wind up for round three.
Mitchell was looking at Daniel askance now, drawing himself up he said, much too loudly,
"I know let's go to O'Malleys!"
To John's shock, Daniel groaned jealously, rather than the expected go away dismissal,
"Cam, you know I'm banned for life!"
Cam's reply was unrepentant
"Yep."
"Banned for life."
"Yep." Cam turned to John, and faux-conspiratorially leaned over, "Old Jackson over there, along with Sam and Jack started an epic, we need to redecorate the entire establishment, and I mean remodelling, bar fight there. Their faces are permanently up behind the bar."
Mitchell made exaggerated lip-smacking noises,
"Best steaks in the whole of Colorado Springs. Nearly as good as my mama makes."
Jackson's response was plaintiff, "Bring me back a doggy bag?"
Vala giggled in tipsy delight, "Yeah, join us Beautiful, it's tradition." Behind Vala Daniel's expression went poker-faced, "Cam, Muscles, and I go there to get away from the other members of SG-1 when they're being difficult." She shot Jackson a glare.
O'Malleys wasn't a dive bar as the story had implied. It had to be one of the swankiest grills cum restaurants in the whole city. Damn.
The steaks were huge, and delicious. 'Grass fed' according to the snooty waiter. John almost embarrassed himself, until he took the approach that had tided him over disturbingly well on earth of late, treat it like an off-world mission, with strange customs that must be followed otherwise the natives will come after you with pointy spears, flaming torches, and the occasional catapulted cow.
The meal was relaxed, Cam remarked drolly,
"What don't they feed you out there Shep?"
"Sure. Lots of tava beans and tuttle root. Then there's near-deer, practically chicken, not-quite-pig, and ersatz goat which are also in plentiful supply these days."
Cam had chuckled, and nearly knocked over his glass of red wine. Sheppard had stuck with beer, beer and beef were a winning combination no matter how swanky the restaurant, or the faces the waitstaff pulled.
"How'd this become a tradition anyway?"
"Ah, when Danny-boy was a guest of the Ori for six months that one time," Cam shot John a sympathetic look, "Sorry man I know SG-1 wasn't really around for you guys when you were stuck down here, but… Well we were going through our own crap. We didn't know if he was alive, or dead, or being tortured or brainwashed or…"
John grimaced, guilt burning through him like a brand. He hadn't heard about any of this at the time, so wrapped up in his own crap. Cam noticed his expression and quickly moved on,
"Anyway, so Teal'c and Sam got around to telling us newcomers all about the legendary exploits of SG-1 from their own mouths. And one thing led to another, and we found out about the lifetime bans to this place… And it sorta became a tradition."
At the end of the meal Cam bowed out, and yes, he bought a to-go bag for Jackson. Traitor. Leaving Shep and Vala propping up the bar. He exaggeratedly waggled his finger at them as he left,
"Now you kids behave yourselves."
John automatically snarked back, "Yes mother." Before he could catch himself, but Mitchell merely laughed at him.
Vala turned to him on her stool and said, "Well, since you enjoyed my cocktail so much Beautiful, how about we order for each other?"
"Sure."
Getting the attention of the bartender, Shep nodded to Vala and said, "Dirty gin martini, as dry as you can get it, very dirty."
Vala, eyes twinkling like mad grinned enormously, "And a screaming orgasm for Beautiful here."
John nearly spat out what was left of his beer. The bartender, laughing at the pair of them, went off to deal with their order.
"Can we stop with the beautifuls please?" John begged, wincing at the whine in his voice.
Vala sighed at him dramatically,
"Oh, you Tau'ri men with your delicate sensibilities."
"What?" John asked genuinely puzzled, before he worked it out, he flushed, "No! No, it's nothing like that, just I think Jackson hates me enough already."
Vala burst out into a husky laugh. It went straight to his groin. She flashed him a wink,
"Yes. We wouldn't want that would we? Well, we'll just have to think of a new nickname then."
Vala, still flirting outrageously ran her foot up to John's thigh,
"How about Big boy?"
John groaned.
Vala's martini turned up first, she took a cautious sip, made a surprised moue of pleasure, and took a much larger gulp,
"Oh John, this is fabulous."
When the screaming orgasm turned up it was a thick creamy monstrosity, that seemed to consist entirely of sugar, dairy, and just enough alcohol to give you a hangover. John took a tiny sip and couldn't quite hold in his disgusted expression.
Vala burst out laughing, "Oh Beautiful, just for that I think your new nickname just has to be-"
"No don't say it."
"Fine." She pouted outrageously, before with a faux-thoughtful expression suggesting, "S.O. then?"
John gave an exaggerated sigh; if he fought it, he just knew she'd swap back to the full name of the drink. Bad enough that SO was military slang for significant other… But screaming orgasm would be much much worse. He knew he shouldn't have brought it up. Resignedly John took a large pull of his horrible drink and pulled a disgusted face as he realised how sweet it was all over again.
Vala reached across and swapped their drinks over.
Notes:
BOHICA: USAF slang used to describe unpleasant orders. (Bend Over, Here It Comes Again)
Airman Snuffy: Anyone of lower rank.
Bag/Box nasties: MREs/the slop they serve to go in the mess.
Jack's herbal tea thing comes from the scenes in his office at Homeworld Command in SGU, he always had a mug of insipid looking tea for some reason.
Landry... Oopf I really hope Landry worked here. He's a mass of contradictions between SG-1 and SGA characterisation-wise. It's about as bad as the way the Pegasus Project makes the Atlantis cast fairly out of character to make them fit in with the SG-1 guys. SG-1 Landry is a decent leader, the firm but fair type, with a sly sense of humour. SGA Landry... Is a bit of an ass. I take the view that a lot of that is due to rival bases both vying for funding from the same source... But at least some of it seems to be down to personal dislike. As far as Landry's concerned Sheppard got Sumner killed, Everett prematurely aged, and Dr Weir threatening to sic the President on him...