River's Run My Flow Of Ideas

Graphic Novel: Love's Splendid Journey (SGA Slash)

2009-11-15T21:14:40Z

Title: Love's Splendid Journey written for the Aliens Made Them Do It challenge at sga_flashfic
Genre: Slash, Humor, Graphic Novel
Characters: John and Rodney and some unsuspecting villagers
Rating: T.
Word count: 9 pages of images
Warning: Slow download if you're on dialup and a bit of smooshiness toward the end.
Spoilers: anything up through season 5
Author Notes: Thanks as always to Koshka for the inspriration. Apparently aliens made me do this.
Summary: The passionate tale of two men as the endeavoured to recapture the romance in their lives.

If you already read it, you might want to go back and check it out again as it has been *UPDATED* to include the panels that vanished mysteriously during upload. Grrrr

TwitterFics and the Like

2009-11-14T20:01:43Z

Download of daily tweets from my Twitter account @liketheriver1. Fridays are Twitter Fic Friday!

10:50 @ezazahaz Much better than Einstein or Maverick Sheppard-McKay. *G* #

10:53 @jane_connor Glad you liked it! It's a guilty pleasure story I go to all in my head when having a bad day. *G* #

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TwitterFics and the Like

2009-11-13T20:02:17Z

Download of daily tweets from my Twitter account @liketheriver1. Fridays are Twitter Fic Friday!

08:29 TwitFic: 10 years ago, Rodney never dreamed he'd have the life he does now. A home on Atlantis, married with a kid named Kirk; the only name #

08:30 they could agree on. Athough,really, what other name was as appropriate for a Sheppard-McKay and wouldn't get him beat up on the playground? #

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TwitterFics and the Like

2009-11-11T20:03:21Z

Download of daily tweets from my Twitter account @liketheriver1. Fridays are Twitter Fic Friday!

07:25 Sitting under departure screen so I can use plug at airport to download images for new comic. Off to see @rob_thurman. Need fun for flight! #

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TwitterFics and the Like

2009-11-06T17:35:16Z

Download of daily tweets from my Twitter account @liketheriver1. Friday's are Twitter Fic Fridays!

08:13 @LeesaPerrie He was no doubt sacrificing Mounds Bars for the hidden Snickers and Mars Bars. ;-) #
08:15 Twitfic: They are smaller than pigeons and have scales among feathers, but the birds are drawn to the lofts Radek built on the East Tower... #
08:16 *far* from the lab. That's the point; an escape from the chaos. The screeching, however, was disconcerning at first-Rodney's, not the birds. #

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A Huge Mucho Thank You!

2009-09-28T00:54:56Z

I'll be the first to admit that for the past six months or so, I've become...shall we say disillusioned with the SGA fandom as a whole. It seems people are much more interested in bitching about TPTB, the cancellation of SGA, the upcoming season of SGU, and several rumors/spoilers/whatever about the plot/characters/whatever of SGU than reading fanfic. And while I whole heartedly agree with just about everything everyone is voicing, it's just turned into a major downer and hasn't accomplished much more than wanting me to hide away from the whole ordeal instead of remembering and celebrating why we're so upset in the first place.... because SGA was tons of fun with wonderful characters that I want to live on one way or another.

Which was why it makes the good news I was met with today all that much more wonderful, in my opinion. The winners of the SGA Fan Awards were announced and four out of five of my fics won! To say that I am shocked and flabbergasted by that news is an understatement, and those of you who felt I deserved to win, especially when I see the company of brilliant writers who were nominated in the same categories... well, I'm not sure if caplocks can express the THANK YOU! I want to send out to all of you who nominated and/or voted for the fics. But I'll try anyway.

THANK YOU! THANK YOU! THANK YOU!

More than that, it reminds me of why I started writing fanfiction. And no, it wasn't to win award, although that is definitely a wonderful perk. *G* It's because we all fell in love with a show and characters and wanted to expand on that love by writing and reading fic. I just hope, for a little while, people will remember that and peruse the list of winners and nominees and enjoy some wonderful fic.

Congratulations to all the winners and nominees out there and thanks for keeping the SGA world alive!

The link to the awards site can be found HERE.

Cold Feet (SGA preslash)

2009-09-20T16:04:18Z

Title: Cold Feet written for the in memoriam challenge at sga_flashfic
Genre: preslash, angst
Characters: John and Rodney
Rating: T.
Word count: ~ 2,900
Warning: None
Spoilers: anything up through season 5
Author Notes: Thanks as always to Koshka for the quick beta
Summary: Weddings weren’t John’s favorite way to pass the time. Yet, here he was, not only attending the ceremony, but a member of the wedding party.

Trick of the Light Now Available at a Book Store Near You!

2009-09-05T06:19:27Z

I finally, *finally* got to the bookstore this week and they *finally* had Trick of the Light out on the shelves. This is the first book of the new series by Rob Thurman (a.k.a Robyn Thurman... yes, gasp! He's a she!) and this series features a female lead. But fear not, because Trixa is one kick ass demon hunter...smart, sassy, and with a few secrets of her own. Not to mention she's surrounded by a posse of kick ass guys (and a cameo from a familiar face for those her read her Leandros series). There's angels, demons, and a lot of stuff in between hanging out in Vegas, baby! And we all know what happens in Vegas usually makes for one hell of a good time, and in this case, one hell of a good read.

So, go! Buy! Buy two while you're at it! Read! Enjoy!

In other less exciting news, I've also finally posted a new and slightly improved (although still screwed up in the formatting department for some unknown reason I can't seem to fix) master fic list. Since LJ decided to eat half of mine a few months ago. I did away with the table format and added summaries for the fics, but I did maintain the various categories for ease of perusing. I'm also continuing my TwitFic Friday if you want to follow along.

Twitterfic Fridays

2009-08-27T05:50:42Z

So, real life has been kicking my ass lately. I have a new initiative at work, which is a hell of alot more work and responsibility, but it's been a chance to actually *fix* problems I've been dealing with for several years, so as much of a pain as it's been, it's also been very satisfying. Just word to the wise, if you tell your boss you want to be "involved" with the new process, be prepared to be given the entire intiative to develop on your own on top of your regular day to day responsibilities.

The downside is that I've been putting in 11 to 12 hour days almost every day just to keep up and that leaves almost no time to write. On the other hand, I've been thinking about Twitter and how I have absolutely nothing worth posting there. That's when I came up with an idea to try that I'm calling Twitterfic Fridays that will address both my problems. I'm going to try to post a microfic, or a few lines of fic, every Friday that will be complete one or two tweets posted back to back. I don't write short, so this is going to be a challenge for me. Oh, and if anyone wants to take the few lines I tweet and run with them into a longer fic, feel free to use them!

If you want to follow the Twitterfics, you can follow me at http://twitter.com/liketheriver1

FIC: Love and Medicine (SGA Slash)

2009-08-19T04:19:55Z

Title: Love and Medicine written for the h/c challenge at sga_flashfic
Genre: Slash, h/c
Characters: John and Rodney
Rating: T.
Word count: ~ 6,000
Warning: None
Spoilers: anything up through season 5
Author Notes: How can I not take part in an h/c challenge?
Summary: So, while questions about love might have been appropriate at another time and place, now, with an arrow threatening to bleed the man dry, it seemed rather odd.

Torchwood Children of Earth

2009-07-29T06:46:42Z

Having returned from Comicon, I finally took the time to watch the last three days of the Children of Earth miniseries.

Was it a brilliant piece of story telling? Yes.

Was it a brutal gut punch for the realism of how an actual alien invasion could likely go down? Absolutely.

Was it too brutal for television? No.

Was it too brutal for Torchwood? Yes.

And this is why...

When I watch Torchwood, I expect a certain darkness but there is also that touch of camp, that bit of sci fi goodness that lets me know this is all fun and games. I'm not watching a show meant to be authentic or that prides itself on realism. If I had been watching BSG, I wouldn't have been the least bit taken aback by what happened in this miniseries. I expected to see that type of despair on that show but Torchwood always had that fantastical aspect that somehow made it seem a little less dreary. There was always enough fun and hope that I felt safe coming back the following week to see what happens next. After watching this series, I don't want to know what other horrors are in that world.

And I'm not even talking about the deaths of the key players. Yes, Ianto's death was heartbreaking and I hate Russell T. Davies for doing that. Partially because it came so close on the heels of the death's of Tosh and Owen. But with them, as sad as it was (and I cried and cried during that ep) the deaths seemed appropriate and somehow fitting. Seriously, how long could Owen have gone on in his living dead state? His final demise seemed rather inevitable. And to have Tosh die with him had a very bittersweet sort of Romeo and Juliet feel to it. Ianto's death, on the other hand, seemed to be thrown in there just for the despair factor with no real purpose for the story arc and seemed to be in there just to break Jack a little more. In fact, the conversations between Ianto and Jack in the series made it obvious that Ianto was being set up for death. When he talked about dying of old age with Jack, you could practically see the bullseye forming on his forehead. I'm surprised Jack didn't start calling him Goose.

But for me, the most brutal parts involved the death's of Froebisher's family and Stephen. I actually cried more with them than with Ianto because it was something ,as a parent, I could feel in my bones. I remember watching a tv movie as a kid about the Orson Well's War of the Worlds radio hoax and how so many people had thought it was real. The scene I remember most vividly ,and that has stuck with me all these years, was a man taking his family into a tunnel, covering his kid's heads with a handkerchief and getting ready to shoot them in the head to save them from being taken by the aliens. Fortunately, in that movie, the police arrived in time to stop him before he could carry through with his plan. The same can't be said for Froebisher. Again, was it realistic? Yes. Was it an agonizing choice to have to make as a parent? Yes. Was it a choice, as a parent, I could very likely make given the knowledge of what was in store for his children if the 456 got them? Yes. Is that something I want to see on a show that has featured humanoid blowfish in the past? No, it is not. If I wanted that, I'd watch Sophie's Choice.

And then there was Stephen, or actually the most heartwrenching part, Alice watching Stephen die, banging on the window and then begging for help when she finally was able to hold her son again even though she knew it was too late. I think that was when I decided I wished I had never watched the show. If Russell T. Davies had wanted to tell this story (and I really do think it was an amazingly fascinating and realistic story), I wish he had chosen a different world to tell it in. The Torchwood verse shouldn't be that dark and agonizing to watch. I think I felt like I was lured in under false pretenses. Maybe I shouldn't have been that surprised given the deaths at the end of the last season, but I won't be surprised like that again if there is a 4th series. Mainly because, after what I watched tonight, I also seriously doubt I'll be tuning in if there is. I watch sci fi to escape from the pressures of the real world and have a little fun. At the end of this, I felt like Jack and just wanted to escape the world of Torchwood forever and never look back.

Okay, I'm on twitter...

2009-07-21T07:21:57Z

and I'm not sure what the hell I'm doing. But I did download the twitterberry app on my blackberry so I can post from Comicon. I'm not even sure how to tell people to follow me. My user name is liketheriver1 there but I'm not sure what the address is to give out nor can I seem to find it on the twitter site. Also, I wanted to be able to automatically post here on my LJ when I send a tweet. I've seen people do that on their LJ but I can't figure out how to do it. Anyone know?

In other news, Hubby and the kids flew out to Germany yesterday for 3 weeks and Robyn and Vic fly in tomorrow so we can drive out to San Diego for Comicon on Wednesday. So, it's been crazy busy and I'm behind on replying to comments and I haven't even packed yet. Hell, I had to go buy a vacuum cleaner because ours is in pieces and has been for a few weeks and with two kids... my floors were crunchy which isn't exactly the shape I want the house when I have guest coming. So not only did I get to vacuum tonight, I got to put the vacuum cleaner together. Gah!

To Twit Or Not To Twit...

2009-07-16T05:35:10Z

I've been trying to decide if I want to join Twitter. I've received a couple of invites from folks to join, but I've resisted, mainly because I can't think of why anyone would want to know about the rather dull things I do during the day... Ate bad pasta salad at the potluck yesterday, spent most of the night making hourly runs to the bathroom... I don't think most people really want that popping up on their cell phone over breakfast. But since I'm going to Comicon next week, I thought it might be fun to post snippets from there. Since SGA isn't going to be there this year (and I can't bring myself to attend the SGU panel and listen to TPTB gush over their new shiny) and the boys won't be attending the SPN panel (although Bobby!!!!) I'm thinking I won't have a huge post with lots of photos like I have the past couple of years but twitter posts from the con floor might be kind of fun.

So, thoughts, anyone? I honestly don't know anything about Twitter. Are there limits to how many posts you can make a day? Can I post from my email on my blackberry instead of texting (since I don't have a texting plan for my phone)? Is anyone interested enough to follow my posts if I did make them? Should I cave and join the Twitterverse????

FIC: The Devil You Know (SGA Gen)

2009-07-07T01:40:10Z

Title: The Devil You Know
Written by: liketheriver
Artwork by: Lily (sheppard4lily )
Summary: With Atlantis adrift in the Milky Way and on the verge of losing all power, the expedition is desperate to find a way to save the city. The potential for help once again comes from an unlikely source− Todd, who’s desperate to save himself from starvation. The offer, however, comes with a dangerous string attached for Sheppard, one that could jeopardize the lives of his entire team as they hatch a plan to travel back to Pegasus where a new Wraith Queen has set her sights on Todd’s Wraith alliance and domination of the galaxy. With the fate of Atlantis in the balance, the team must contend not only with the Devil they know, but also the new one that they don’t.

It is now available here at the Beyond Atlantis Virtual Season 6 website.

It's over 40,000 words and has *20* gorgeous illustrations so go, read, admire the artwork, and enjoy! And huge thanks to valleya and annieb1955 for the wonderful beta and proofread!

Stargate Fan Award Open for Voting

2009-07-03T17:06:43Z

The Stargate Fan Awards are open for voting now. This really falls into the "for what it's worth" department for me this year. Once again, voting is open for less than a month (closes July 31). There are over 2000 nominations and we're expected to read them all in less than a month... I just don't see it happening. Which is too bad because there are always great fics out there that are on the long side and I don't think they get read in the same level as the shorter works. The wonderful thing about the awards is that they let you find fics you might have missed or otherwise never seen, so even if you don't have time to read them all before the deadline, I hope you do take the time to go back and read some great fic.

This year I have 5 nominated works in the competition, and only two of them are in the categories where I suggested they be placed. My AU fic Never Wanted to Dance is now in gen actions/adventure because there weren't enough noms to have a stand alone AU category. They created a new category for graphic fan fic and I agreed to place So Little Space in there although it is much more fic heavy than most of the other noms in the category. And the awards team decided that The Therapeutic Properties of Coffee had to go into ship because of the Rodney/Katie relationship, although I still don't think it is a ship fic, it just has that as the backdrop for the true story which is the John and Rodney friendship. In the ship category, I think gen readers will never even look twice at it and ship readers are going to be highly disappointed when it isn't a true ship fic. I just wanted to let you know about that because I'm sure there will be people wondering, why the hell did she put this fic in this category? And the truth is, I didn't. *G*

So here's where you can find the fics I wrote:

Don Juan McKay and Other Universal Improbablities: SGA Fan Fictions>Gen>Team>Large Works

Never Wanted to Dance (With Nobody but You): SGA Fan Fiction>Gen>Duet>Sheppard/McKay>Action/Adventure

Sibling Rivalry: SGA Fan Fiction>Gen>Duet>Sheppard/McKay>Episode-Based

So Little Space, So Much Time: Graphic Fan Fiction

The Therapeutic Properties of Coffee: SGA Fan Fiction>Ship>Other Pairing>Drama

FIC: Greener Grasses (SGA Slash)

2009-07-02T02:00:28Z

Title: Greener Grasses
Genre: Slash, h/c, humor
Characters: John, Rodney, and Jeannie
Rating: T.
Word count: ~ 15,000
Warning: None
Spoilers: anything up through season 5
Author Notes: Marla asked for an Earth fic with John, Rodney and Jeannie and a bank robbery. This is what I came up with. Sorry, it took longer than I had hoped it would. *G* Thanks, as always, to Koschka for the beta.
Summary: You would think being a hostage in a bank robbery would be the biggest surprise of your day, but if you're Jeannie Miller and your brother comes to visit, you'd be wrong.

Greener Grasses

by liketheriver

"Daddy says McDonald’s is responsible for killing the trees in the Rainforest and the little kids in China losing their cultural identity."

Jeannie Miller wasn’t exactly sure when things had shifted in her life, but over the past year or so, they definitely had. With a sigh of frustration at the political commentary from the backseat of her car, Jeannie inched the Prius a little closer to the large menu board. Sometimes being a heartless conservative and eating a Big Mac whenever the urge struck her would be sooooo much easier than the life she’d chosen.

"I know, sweetie, but today they are also responsible for getting you to school on time with something to eat."

She knew Kaleb was right about their accountability to the world community, and she was definitely losing karma points on this one. But given the night she’d had and the fact that her brother and his friend were descending on her for a week, surely the universe could cut her a little slack this time...

"Like it did last week?" Madison inquired innocently.

… and all the other times she’d ended up this situation.

Maybe coming back as an earthworm wouldn’t be so bad as far as karma was concerned. After all, they didn’t have to deal with broken waterlines and getting their kids to school on time in order to go pick up their brothers from the airport.

"Yes, Madison, just like last week."

The car in front of hers pulled forward, and Jeannie quickly turned off Madison’s Kidz Bop CD and flipped through the radio stations for something appropriately cool to be playing when she pulled up to the window. It was ridiculous, really, to be so concerned with impressing the college kid working the drive thru, but it didn’t stop her from wishing she’d brought one of Kaleb’s old Dead Kennedys tapes when she saw it was the guy with the piercing through his eyebrow.

"Can I help you?" he asked, the bored tone showing he wasn’t that impressed by the alternative station she had landed on.

"Yes, two Egg McMuffins, no meat, please. Oh, and two orange juices." The teenager pushed the buttons on the screen in front of him and stopped with an irritated sigh when Jeannie modified, "Actually, make that one orange juice and a coffee instead." With Mer coming, she’d definitely need coffee.

Jeannie checked her watch and quickly passed Madison’s food back to her when the woman at the next window handed her the bag. Traffic to the airport was going to be a mess this time of morning, but Mer and Colonel Sheppard could just wait. She’d just be happy if she managed to get Madison to school before the last bell rang, which she did with about thirty seconds to spare.

Jeannie had never regretted her decision to be a stay at home mom. Madison was still the first priority in her known world and Jeannie loved being there to see her daughter’s sleepy smiles in the morning and rambunctious ones as Madison crossed the school yard to greet her mother in the afternoon with her Tinkerbell backpack bouncing on her small shoulders as she ran. When they returned home, Jeannie would listen eagerly as Madison told her about her day at school as Jeannie prepared a snack in the kitchen, then settle down to help her daughter with her homework before starting dinner in preparation for Kaleb returning home from his afternoon lectures. It was a good life, a fulfilling life, one Jeannie would never think twice about… except, lately, she was.

Maybe it was having Madison gone to school for most of the day and the resulting free time. She had thought that with six hours a day she’d be able to use that time to return to her research, possibly write a paper. The problem was that without the backing of a grant or University research possibilities were extremely limited. Even if she could obtain funding, she didn’t have access to laboratory facilities, which limited her to purely theoretical research. Considering that the only theoretical work she’d been able to accomplish since Madison had been born had been classified by the SGC, not to mention gotten her kidnapped and injected with nanites, that didn’t seem like the brightest idea. It had also been absconded by another scientist and nearly resulted in the destruction of the world, at least that’s what Meredith had told her, if you could believe anything her brother said. Although, having seen the world Mer lived in, that sort of apocalyptic outcome was always a possibility. But that just meant there was the chance to step and play the hero and Meredith never passed up the chance to be the center of attention. Having helped out a couple of times now with the hero work, Jeannie could definitely see the appeal.

Apparently, the only good that had come out of the bridge theory she had developed was that it had allowed her to reconnect with her brother. Some might see that as just one more negative, but Jeannie tried to put a positive spin on things. Mer could be trying, there was no doubt, but since his time on Atlantis, Jeannie had seen a real change in him. He seemed to value family more than he ever had in his life, and for the first time since their falling out, he seemed to understand why she had made the choices she had. In fact, he had actually seemed interested in doing the same with his life. Things hadn’t worked out with Katie Brown, which was unfortunate, although in a way, not surprising. But by the time Mer started his relationship with Dr. Keller, he had definitely matured even more.

Mer had actually brought Jennifer up to meet Jeannie and her family when Atlantis had been trapped on Earth for several months the year before. Jeannie had thought maybe, just maybe, this would be the one for him. Although, Mer had been excessively attentive and doting and nothing like Jeannie had ever seen with her brother, as if he was afraid Jennifer would sneak out the back door while he wasn’t looking. Jennifer, however, seemed to have no problem with the attention and Jeannie wrote it off to that new relationship giddiness that overtakes some couples. She remembered those days with Kaleb, back when they would meet between classes for a quick make-out session in a secluded corner of the library, or if they had more time, a trip to his apartment to make love on his futon while Kaleb recited poetry he’d composed for her between gasps and thrusts that had the meditation beads dangling from the corner of the headboard clanking rhythmically.

Kaleb had always been eclectically romantic, the type who could quote the Ramones as easily as Keats, and the exact opposite of her father, which was probably why Jeannie had been so smitten with him from the day she met him. He was the one who introduced her to vegetarianism and meditation and the Kama Sutra, although, these days, the meatless diet was all that had made it past the post-doc stage of their lives. Not that there was anything wrong with that, because things changed when you had a child, and when you suddenly had to worry about a mortgage and car payment and whether or not your husband would make tenure so you could continue to make the mortgage and car payment while also managing to put some savings away for Madison’s future college expenses. Things changed, not necessarily for the better or worse, just… different.

They had changed for Mer over the past year, too. When Atlantis returned to Pegasus, Jennifer decided to stay behind on Earth. Her father was getting older and having a few health problems, and, according to Mer’s email telling Jeannie they’d broken off the relationship, she had never intended to stay on Atlantis more than two years anyway. Carson’s death and her subsequent promotion to Chief Medical Officer had drawn that out to four years, but Carson was back, in one form or another, and when the call came to leave Earth, Jennifer couldn’t bring herself to do it. Meredith, however, couldn’t stay behind. Couldn’t or wouldn’t… Jeannie honestly didn’t know with him. Even though he seemed to be in love with Jennifer, his first love would always be physics.

As much as he supposedly wanted to settle down and get married, until Mer could find a way to put someone before his love of almighty science, Jeannie knew he’d never find the happiness with another person he claimed to be seeking. Besides, Atlantis was full of life or death adventures, and as much as Mer complained about the constant danger, Jeannie could tell he relished playing the hero even more. Jeannie decided she’d take Mer aside during his visit this week and discuss it with him, although, honestly, Jeannie was starting to appreciate the draw of that constant adrenaline rush. As happy as Jeannie was to return home after her trips to Atlantis, there was a part of her that was a little bit jealous that Meredith was out saving the galaxy while she made chocolate chip cookies, that Mer was stepping onto different planets on a daily basis while she had a set routine that was so familiar that she could do it with her eyes closed most days.

Mer and Colonel Sheppard were arriving in less than half an hour−a fact that he had only let her in on two days before. Jeannie understood that her brother’s job involved a great deal of secrecy and last minute planning was par for the course, but surely he could give more than forty-eight hours notice before showing up on Jeannie’s doorstep, and with a guest no less. Of course, the fact that practically every hotel in the area was sold out because of a high school soccer tournament may have been why they were staying with her instead of getting rooms with real beds instead of the futons Mer complained about every night he’d slept on one. But two houseguests had meant cleaning out the office enough to unfold the futon in the corner so that everyone had a place to sleep, washing the spare sheets for the bed that hadn’t been pulled out in over two years, and giving the house an overall scrubbing. If it was just Mer visiting, a general tidying would have been enough, as he rarely noticed that sort of thing anyway. However, John warranted the full-blown deep cleaning, regardless of the fact that he would be polite enough not to say anything even if he did notice it. Although, why John Sheppard would want to come to Vancouver for his vacation instead of someplace more exotic was a mystery.

Of course, the shower in the master bath decided to develop a leak and flood the entire bathroom and half their bedroom last night. They had been up until three a.m. mopping and attempting a repair that proved to be beyond both her and Kaleb’s capabilities. The whole ordeal had resulted in Jeannie being exhausted and sleeping through her alarm that morning. She’d had enough time to get Madison into some clothes, throw on some jeans and a sweatshirt herself, and head out the door in search of a drive-thru for breakfast, then immediately to the airport.

Her cell phone rang and Jeannie figured it was Mer demanding to know where she was. To her relief she saw it was Kaleb’s office number. "Hey."

"So, you don’t sound too exasperated," her husband observed on the other end of the line. "I take it you haven’t picked up your brother yet."

"I’m on my way now," Jeannie told him. "We were running a little late this morning thanks to the shower."

"I thought you might be busy, so I called the plumber to schedule an appointment when I got in to school."

Jeannie smiled at the thought that it was one less thing she had to deal with this morning. "My knight in shining armor."

"I try my best. The good news is that he has an opening this morning. The bad news is that it’s in an hour."

The smile vanished from Jeannie’s face. "An hour? I’m still ten minutes from the airport. I’m not going to be able to make it back by then."

"It’s that or Tuesday," Kaleb informed her.

"We can’t go four days without our shower, not with two more adults in the house," Jeannie sighed. "All right, tell him I’ll be there just as soon as I can." Her phone beeped indicating another incoming call. "I’ve got another call. I’ll call you a little later."

Disconnecting from her husband’s pleasant, "love you," Jeannie was greeted by a less affectionate tone.

"We’re in baggage claim. Where are you?"

Jeannie rolled her eyes. "I’m on my way. I hit some traffic."

"Traffic?" Mer demanded as if it was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard in his life.

"Yes, Mer, traffic," she explained with exaggerated simplicity. "It’s an Earth-based phenomenon us lowly humans have to deal with on a regular basis."

"Well, hurry up. We’re starving."

Jeannie glanced over at the bag from McDonald’s that contained her own breakfast she hadn’t even had a chance to eat yet. "I’ll be there as soon as I can."

"We’ll be waiting at passenger pickup. McKay out."

The phone clicked off and Jeannie had to wonder if her brother’s phone etiquette had always been that bad or he’d just been using radio communications for so long that he forgot complex concepts like saying hello and goodbye. His greetings in person weren’t much better.

"It’s about time," he grumbled, picking up the duffle bag sitting beside his foot and moving to the trunk to look impatiently at his sister to open it.

Jeannie crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows as she prompted, "Hello, Jeannie, it’s wonderful to see you. Don’t you look lovely? Thanks so much for coming to pick us up and giving us a place to stay."

Mer rolled his eyes and waved an arm at her general appearance. "The lovely thing might be pushing it, but it is good to see you."

"I guess that’ll have to do." Opening her arms, she pulled her brother into a hug that he returned somewhat reluctantly, but with Mer you had to learn to take what you could get.

John stood a few steps back, apparently letting the siblings have their reunion, but he returned Jeannie’s smile when she greeted him. "Well, I think you look great."

John Sheppard always made Jeannie feel a little awkward. He’d always been exceptionally nice and pleasant and welcoming and maybe even a little flirtatious whenever she saw him, but she had the distinct impression that he was always on guard and certain things like hugging were completely off limits with him. A mere handshake, however, seemed belittling after all they’d been through together. She covered the discomfort by reaching for the duffle bag he carried.

"Thanks, John. I’m so glad you could come along with Mer; it’s a nice change of pace to see you under less bizarre circumstances than our last couple of visits."

John glanced over at Mer, but the breezy smile stayed firmly, if a little forcibly, in place. "Yeah, that would be something else, wouldn’t it?"

He gave up the bag with some reluctance that Meredith didn’t miss. "Why are you taking his bag but not mine?"

"Is something wrong that you can’t lift your bag?" Jeannie challenged.

"No, but the fact remains, you didn’t even offer to take mine and you had to practically wrestle Sheppard’s away from him."

"I’m simply returning the favor and being polite," she argued. "Something you might want to take note of for future reference."

John stepped in between them then and took both bags and placed them into the trunk. "There, problem solved."

She and Mer both looked at John with a slightly boggled expression that he would do that, but Jeannie recovered quickly. "Thank you, John. So, are we ready to go?"

As Jeannie moved back to the driver’s seat, she heard John mumble to her brother, "Play nice."

"I am playing nice," Mer countered. "I’m not playing favorites, but I’m playing nice."

"Rodney," John warned, and to Jeannie’s surprise, Mer fell silent.

Jeannie had always been somewhat amazed by the odd connection between John and Meredith. From the first time she’d met John, she’d been aware of how much Mer wanted to have John’s approval. At first she thought it was a respect thing, that her brother had finally found someone who impressed him enough and saved his life enough times that Mer actually felt admiration and gratitude. It didn’t take long, though, before Jeannie realized John felt the same way about Mer. Each time she saw them together, it just became more and more obvious the two genuinely liked each other and Mer’s dependence on John during his illness, not to mention John’s obvious distress over the thought that Mer might die, just went to show how much their friendship had grown over the years. Apparently, it wasn’t enough to have Mer sharing the food he stole from his sister.

"Oh, thank God, I’m starving," Mer announced as soon as he saw the bag of food on the passenger seat.

"Hey, that’s mine!"

Meredith ignored Jeannie’s assertion and took a large bite then screwed his face in disgust. "Where’s the back bacon?"

Only Mer would have the audacity to complain about the food he pilfered to the person he stole it from. "What part of vegetarian do you not understand?"

"Pretty much the entire concept is a mystery to me," he told her with a disgusted look at the sandwich in his hand, but it didn’t stop him from taking another bite.

Jeannie shook her head in exasperation but looked in the rearview mirror at John, who sat in the backseat, before she pulled back out into the airport traffic. "I’m sure you’re more than familiar with my brother’s extreme stinginess when it comes to food. I’d offer you something, but seeing as he’s eating my breakfast, I don’t really have anything to give."

"I’m good," John assured her. "I even let Rodney finish off my meal on the plane. Not that it was any great loss on my part."

Mer was taking a long drink from her coffee. "I don’t know what you’re complaining about; I thought the muffin was excellent."

"Oh, yeah? What flavor was it?" John asked incredulously.

Mer stopped to think for a second. "You know, I’m not really sure."

"My point exactly," John concluded.

Jeannie smiled at John in the mirror. "I’ll make us something to eat once we get home."

With a shake of his head, Mer spoke around the last bite of the McMuffin. "We need to go to the bank first."

"Mer, I have a repairman coming to the house in about forty-five minutes," Jeannie explained.

"My credit card expired and I need a new one," Mer justified. "It’ll take me ten minutes to have one reissued and then I’m done."

"You can go after you drop me at the house," Jeannie countered. "Once we’re there, you can take the car and go to the bank, or anyplace else you want to go, while I stay with the plumber. I just need the car back before three so I can pick up Madison from school."

"But that’s twenty minutes back this way when we need to go on the opposite side of town after the bank."

"There are other branches in town, Mer."

"I don’t know where those are, and I sure don’t have time to go searching for them if you want us back before three."

John spoke up then to stop the argument. "We can just wait until tomorrow, Rodney."

"Tomorrow’s Saturday, Sheppard," Mer pointed out irritably. "The government offices will be closed. It’s now or we wait until Monday. And I don’t see what the big deal is since the bank is right there when we exit the freeway to go to Jeannie’s house."

Jeannie had reached the end of her rope. Her brother had been there all of ten minutes and he’d already managed to drive her over the edge. "The big deal, Meredith, is that I have responsibilities. Sure, they may not be as grandiose as shutting down energy bridges between alternate realities, or stopping a Wraith invasion of Earth, but in my world, in my grand scheme of things, where my family is concerned, having a shower that works is important. And if you had any concept of what family means, you would understand that and stop being such a selfish jerk about things." Then is sunk in what Mer had said about where else he needed to go. "Besides, why do you need to go to a government office anyway?"

Mer was frowning at her, obviously waiting for her little rant to come to an end before he dove into what was sure to be a much longer and more scathing diatribe. But when he finally spoke, it was short and to the point.

"Sheppard and I need to apply for a marriage license."

"For who?" she demanded with a snort.

"For the two of us."

Jeannie laughed at the notion. "Mer, that’s absurd. If you can’t tell me because it’s classified, then just say…"

"It’s true, Jeannie," Meredith told her with unnerving sincerity. "We’re here in Canada to get married."

Jeannie laughed again, this time with less conviction than before, and the surety that Mer was yanking her chain disappeared entirely when she glanced in the rearview mirror to see the strained look on John’s face.

"What? Seriously?" she demanded of the man in the backseat.

John grimaced and shrugged. "Remember what you said about circumstances being less bizarre this time around? You may have spoken too soon."

That’s when Jeannie realized her life had just shifted a little more.

* * * *

Jeannie wasn’t entirely sure what annoyed her more−the fact that her brother made her stop at the bank and possibly miss the repairman, or the fact that her brother had kept something this huge from her for so long. Yeah, okay, actually she was sure.

"I can’t believe you would wait until now and just spring something like this one me," she snapped at him in a lowered voice as the three of them stood waiting in front of the array of desks for the next bank associate to help them.

"Which part?" Mer asked in genuine curiosity. John had stepped back a few feet, apparently leaving the discussion to the two siblings.

"All of it!" When a couple of people standing in the teller line turned to stare at them, John suddenly seemed very interested in the silk ficus in the corner. Jeannie lowered her voice to a harsh whisper to continue the conversation. "I mean, how long have you and John been together."

"About a month after the city…" Mer used his hands with a sort of rocket sound to mimic the Ancient city rising from the Pacific.

Jeannie frowned at the playacting, not really as interested in it or Mer’s answer to her original question as she was about her next one. "For that matter, since when have you been interested in men?"

"What? Do you want an exact date?" Meredith crossed his arms and used that superior tone that just pissed her off.

"I would just like to know if this is something new for you." Or something you’ve been hiding from me all my life, she added silently.

"Yes, I hit forty and decide to change my sexual orientation," Mer snorted acerbically. "It’s all a big mid-life crisis."

"You don’t have to be defensive about it," she countered to his sarcasm.

"Apparently, I do." Mer spread his arms. "If that were really the case… that it was just a phase and you could just wait it out a few years and it’ll pass… would it make you feel better?"

"Mer, look at my life. I’m a vegetarian, hybrid-driving, wife of an English lit professor; I’m about as liberal as they come. I am more than willing to accept that you are in a same-sex relationship. I just wish you had opened up to me about this earlier."

"Exactly when did you want me to start talking with you about this? Did you want the details about my adolescent dreams involving spandex-clad superheroes when you were in elementary school?"

Jeannie opened her mouth in shock, unable to respond to the comment. John now looked like he might be attempting to hide behind the potted plant.

Finally regaining some composure, Jeannie took a deep breath. "I’m just trying to understand why you kept such an important part of your life from me for so long? I mean, I can understand about not saying anything when Mom and Dad were alive, but why not when we were older?"

"Well, for one thing, it’s really none of your business. For another, I’ve never been exclusively with men, as you well know. And probably most importantly, I’ve spent most of my adult life working with the United States military. It’s not like I could exactly come out and tell you that I had a massive crush on my team leader during one of my emails home to you knowing that they go through the military classification officers before you see them."

Jeannie could sympathize with the challenges Mer must have faced during his time working with the Stargate Progam. Relationships developed with men in that position wouldn’t exactly be of the nature where you brought the guy home to meet your family, it wasn’t like that sort of thing was exactly welcomed in that military-run environment. Maybe he had been involved with men before and never told her because of the risk to the other man’s career, which brought up a very big question in regards to Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, who was not only here openly with Meredith, but was also planning to marry him.

Jeannie, however, decided that was a conversation for someplace other than a bank waiting area. All of this conversation should probably wait, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself from demanding, "But married?"

"You were the one who was telling me before that I should consider marriage," Mer countered matter-of-factly.

"A year ago you were thinking of marrying Jennifer, a year before that it was Katie, and now John? I never said for you to try to marry every person who stops to give you the time of day!"

The expression on Meredith’s face went from irritated to infuriated in a flash and he glanced quickly at where John was standing. That’s when Jeannie realized she had said something in her exasperation with her brother that she shouldn’t have. Not that she wasn’t seriously thinking it, but because the look on John’s face made it clear he had had those same thoughts, those same doubts, about himself. He no longer looked like he wanted to disappear into the artificial tree; he looked like he wished he wasn’t there at all. Meredith, on the other hand, looked like he could throttle her where she stood for bring those doubts to the surface again.

"Oh… John… I didn’t mean to suggest you were…"

Her apology was cut short when the front doors to the bank flew open and five men wearing ski masks and carrying a variety of guns came through the door.

"What the…?" Mer started as soon as he saw the men, but he went silent as soon as John stepped in close and gripped Mer’s bicep the same time he pulled Jeannie back behind them.

Jeannie’s eyes widened in shock, but she managed not to scream like a couple of other women had, although she did cower and cover her head when one of the men fired his shotgun into the ceiling. It really didn’t make her feel any better that both John and Mer, men very accustomed to gunfire, cringed away as well, especially when both of their hands went to their thighs for a sidearm that wasn’t there.

"May I have your attention please," the man in the lead announced loudly as the other men in his band gathered around him pointing handguns and even a couple of automatic weapons at the people in the bank. "We’ll be robbing this bank today. If everyone remains quiet and calm and does exactly what we say, we’ll be out of your hair and on our way in a few minutes and no one will get hurt. If anyone decides to try anything, we will shoot you dead. Thank you for your time."

Jeannie’s heart was pounding in her chest as she dared to peek over her brother’s shoulder. John still held tight to Mer with one hand while his other arm was fencing Jeannie in on one side, keeping her behind them in a motion that was reminiscent of how Jeannie would stop Madison from running into traffic at a busy intersection. Protective− John was always protective of those around him. It was a trait Jeannie had always admired about him.

The robbers had kicked over chairs and stanchions with retractable nylon rope to clear a space in the center of the room and were moving the bank patrons and employees to sit in a group as they collected cell phones along with any valuables that caught their eyes. One of the men grabbed Mer’s other arm and pulled him roughly free of John’s grip, practically pushing him onto the floor toward the others. Jeannie gasped, hand to her mouth when John instinctively lurched toward him and the robber pointed his handgun into John’s chest.

"Easy," John coaxed. "We’re not going to try anything."

"Shut up!" the man ordered, his words muffled slightly by the ski mask he wore.

Mer was staring back at them from the floor, eyes wide in worry, watching as the man still held the gun pointed squarely at John and Jeannie behind him. "Look," he tried to reason, "just let them come over here…"

The gun swung to point at Meredith and fire two shots into the floor a few inches from him. "I said, shut the fuck up!"

This time Jeannie did squeal along with several other people who were apparently convinced her brother had pushed the guy too far. By the way Mer was squeezing his eyes shut and using his open hands as a flimsy shield against the next onslaught of bullets, he was evidently worried about the same thing.

John made a guttural sound in the back of his throat, a denial of what appeared to be coming, even as he lunged forward to tackle the gunman. Meredith was backpedaling out of the way as John and the robber hit the marble floor, the gun trapped between their two bodies. The other bank robbers didn’t even had time to take more than a couple of steps in their direction to break up the scuffle before the gun went off, the sound muffled by their bodies.

Mer flinched visibly at the sound, and if possible, his eyes went wider, as he called an anguished, "John!"

For a second, neither man moved, then John groaned and rolled off the gunman with a hand to his abdomen.

"Sheppard?" Meredith was already crawling toward him and trying to pull John’s hand away as soon as he reached his side. "Oh God, that son of a bitch shot you."

John’s face was screwed tight in pain. "Shit."

"Why the hell would you do something so utterly stupid?" Mer accused, still trying to move John’s hand.

"Was… going… to shoot…you," John grunted out in explanation.

"So you let him shoot you instead?" With little more than a glance at where the gunman lay motionless on the floor, Meredith mumbled, "Well, he’s not going to shoot anyone else." The spreading wet patch across the man’s black shirt showed where the bullet had entered his chest.

When John still wouldn’t move his hand, Mer wrapped his fingers around his wrist. "John, listen to me; you have to let me see."

John finally relented, and Mer tugged up the bottom of the blood-stained shirt. It had the colonel grimacing in pain, but Mer exhaled in relief at what he found. "It’s not deep, maybe just a powder burn."

John didn’t seem to believe it, because he lifted his head from the floor in an attempt to look down his body to see for himself.

That relief was short lived, however, when the man in charge reached them, pushed Meredith out of the way, to make room to kick John violently in the side. John sucked in a harsh breath and curled into a ball, but not before another kick was delivered, followed quickly by others, each accentuating his words.

"That was my fucking vault man!"

Jeannie found herself backing into a desk, trying to get away from the violence. Mer, however, did just the opposite.

"Stop it!" he yelled, throwing himself between John and the booted foot, taking a kick himself but practically covering John’s body with his own. "Can… fix it," he grunted in his own pain.

"You can bring him back to life?" the head thug demanded incredulously, preparing to deliver another kick.

"No, I can open the vault," Mer told him through gritted teeth.

Mer prepared for another kick, but the foot stopped. "You can open a bank vault?"

The thief didn’t seem to believe Meredith, and from the warning way John ground out, "Rodney," the robber wasn’t the only one.

Mer, however, was just as self-assured as always. "Yes, I can open it. Everything is done with computers these days. Let me on the manager’s computer and I can hack the system and get you in. It’ll just take a little time."

"Shit." The approaching sound of sirens had the robbers looking toward the door. "Looks like we’re not going anywhere anytime soon."

When the man seemed to be weighing his options, Mer promised once more. "I’ll get it open. Just don’t hurt anybody." With the man still straddling the fence on his decision to let Meredith help, Mer appealed to Jeannie. "Tell him. Tell him I can open it."

"He…" Jeannie cleared her throat to keep her voice from cracking from fear. "He can do it. He has multiple PhD’s in physics and mathematics."

Apparently, Jeannie’s endorsement worked.

"Get him up," the leader ordered one of his men, who yanked Mer to his feet.

"Wait…" John started to follow, pushing himself up with unsteady arms, only to find himself right back down on the floor when the head thug used the butt of his shotgun to hit him in the head.

"What the fuck?" Mer demanded, fighting against the man holding him to get back to John.

John lay still on the floor, blood already streaming from the injury to his head, which just made Meredith struggle harder to reach him.

The gun in Mer’s face, however, stilled him. "I don’t think you understand exactly what’s happening here. I’m the one robbing this bank, which means I’m the one who says what does or doesn’t happen here."

Mer ignored the threat, offering one of his own. "You can’t rob anything until I open the damn vault. You touch him again, you get nothing."

The two men stared each other down, neither looking to back down. Finally, the man holding Mer pushed the issue with his boss. "Make up your mind before the cops make their move."

The leader gave another shove to Mer, this time toward the offices at the far end of the bank. "Bring those two," he ordered his other men. "In case the professor here needs motivation to work a little faster."

"I’m not a professor," Meredith started to correct, but was cut off with a yelp when the man twisted Mer’s arm behind his back and kept him moving toward the office marked D. Marsh, Manager.

Jeannie had a gun waved to move her along, but she tried to keep an eye on John who was more out than in at this point and was being practically dragged along by the man motioning her forward.

Guns. Jeannie hated guns, even more so since she’d been taken from her own bed by gun point by thugs working for a desperate man. These men were just as desperate as Wallace had been, although for much less forgivable reasons. Still, at least this time, she didn’t have to worry about what the gunmen might do to Kaleb or Madison. Now she just had to worry if she’d ever get to see them again.

Don’t think like that, she chastised herself silently. She’d see them again, although Kaleb had no clue she was in this situation, and if it went long, no one would be there to meet Madison after school. That had only happened once before when she’d had a flat tire on the way to pick her up, and Madison had been devastated to come out and not see a familiar face waiting. And now it might happen again, not to mention the repairman who would be waiting…

The sound of John mumbling her brother’s name in his less-than-lucid state brought Jeannie out of her thoughts and back to the here and now. He was still bleeding from the gash on his head, and she wouldn’t be surprised if he had a couple of broken ribs from the beating, all because John had simply tried to protect Mer. And now Mer was going to crack open a bank vault in an attempt to protect both John and Jeannie.

Suddenly, a broken shower didn’t seem that important any more.

* * * *

Part 2

Coming Soon.... The Devil You Know

2009-06-26T13:52:57Z

Written by: liketheriver
Artwork by: Lily ( sheppard4lily )
Summary: With Atlantis adrift in the Milky Way and on the verge of losing all power, the expedition is desperate to find a way to save the city. The potential for help once again comes from an unlikely source− Todd, who’s desperate to save himself from starvation. The offer, however, comes with a dangerous string attached for Sheppard, one that could jeopardize the lives of his entire team as they hatch a plan to travel back to Pegasus where a new Wraith Queen has set her sights on Todd’s Wraith alliance and domination of the galaxy. With the fate of Atlantis in the balance, the team must contend not only with the Devil they know, but also the new one that they don’t.
Preview available at the website.

FIC: Starting Gate (Star Trek XI)

2009-06-24T05:32:16Z

Title: Starting Gate
Genre: Gen, humor
Characters: Bones, Kirk, Spock, Scotty plus most others
Rating: T.
Word count: ~ 5,000
Warning: None
Spoilers: Yeah, well, the movie.
Author Notes: Because... oh hell, who knows why? It just seemed the thing to do and Bones just wouldn't shut up in my head. Thanks to Koschka and kodiak_bear for their help! (but all screw ups are mine)
Summary: You didn't think everyday would be like their first on Enterprise, did you?

Starting Gate

by liketheriver

Placing my tray under the food replicator in the Enterprise’s cafeteria, I state clearly, "Steak, medium rare."

There is an unhappy chirp and a simulated female voice cuts off my request before I can order the side dishes. "There are ten thousand, four hundred and eighty-three varieties of steak in the database. Please specify type."

I grind my teeth at the sound of the voice, mainly because I often forget how many cultures Starfleet programmed into the infernal computer, but mostly because she sounds like my goddamn ex-wife.

"Nebraska cornfed beefsteak, Porterhouse cut, medium rare. Baked potato with the works."

The computer chirp pissily once more. "Unspecific term. Please elaborate on ‘the works’."

Stupid piece of crap computer. They program it with over one hundred thousand culinary choices from the known inhabited galaxies and they don’t tell it what ‘the works’ means on a baked potato? "You know, the works."

"Unspecific term," the serene voice states yet again. "Please elaborate."

Before I can answer, my communicator twitters. "Dr. McCoy," another female voice calls, this one completely human, "please respond."

I tap the badge on my chest with a sigh. "Go ahead, Nurse Chapel."

"Doctor, Ensign Bixley is in the infirmary again. He is adamant that you see him."

This is the third time in as many days that the kid has been in convinced he’s dying of some alien virus he read about in the ship’s database. "What is it this time?" I demand. "Bandarian Heart Worms? Glaxian Toe Fungus? What?"

"Invalid request," the computer tells me. "This unit is for food and beverage replication only."

"Not you," I snap at the infernal machine.

"I’m afraid the ensign is convinced he is suffering from Preengely Hives," I’m told by my nurse, who is just as flustered by this jackass as I am. There hasn’t been a confirmed case of Preengely Hives on record in almost forty years.

"Dear God, who’s idiotic idea was it to let these hypochondriacs have access to the medical database?" I grump before directing, "Administer a hyposyringe of dalosacaine until I can get there."

Christine seems genuinely confused by my order. "Dalosacaine, Doctor?"

So does the replicator. "Invalid request. This unit is for food and beverage replication only."

"I heard you the first time."

I’ve never understood why this stupid contraption has such a calm and soothing voice. It’s as if Starfleet decided the sound of a tranquil tone would stop a food riot from occurring or keep someone from losing it all together and smashing it into tiny bits with the nearest blunt object when the steak they were craving wasn’t one of the ten thousand, four hundred and eighty-three that are programmed into the system. Unfortunately, right now, it’s that damn voice that has me longing to wrap my hands around the chair at the closest table at hurl it at the replicator before me.

"Doctor McCoy?" Chapel asks again to regain my attention.

"And you heard me the first time," I grump. "Dalosacaine, maybe even a double dose."

"For Preengely Hives?"

She has good reason to question my treatment regime because sedating a patient with an outbreak gains him absolutely nothing. It can, however, gain the attending physician a little peace and quiet.

"No, for my lunch break," I explain. "I’ll be back before he wakes up. Maybe. McCoy out." My medical ethics gets the best of me and I call back. "Administer half a dose and call me if there are any problems."

"Yes, Doctor." I can almost hear the grin in Chapel’s voice.

Now that I have Bixley under control, I turn my attention back to more important matters… lunch.

"The works, my dear facsimile of a woman, includes sour cream, butter, bacon bits, and chives. And don’t skimp on the bacon."

A few seconds later, my food appears magically on my plate, and I retrieve it with a hungry smile of anticipation. Turning, I survey the cafeteria for my choices of a place to sit. In the far corner, Commander Spock is dining with Lieutenant Uhura.

That’s an unconventional pairing to say the least, and who would believe a Vulcan could bag one of the hottest women at the Academy? It probably has a lot to do with the fact that she’s also one of the smartest. Vulcans on whole are an odd lot… were an odd lot considering the recent fate of their planet… but the ones that remain are very much like the one I’ve gotten to know best. Creatures of control, slaves to logic, with a supposed firestorm of emotions reigned in tightly behind a cold mask of detachment honed by a lifetime of meditation and indoctrination. On the one hand, it kind of blows my theory about Spock being a sociopath and we just hadn’t found where he was hiding the body parts, unless the entire damn race has a genetic predisposition for a hereto unnamed social development disorder. On the other, if he’s simply being a dick, it just makes it even funnier that Jim lost the girl to that pointy-eared son of a bitch.

Uhura is talking animatedly and Spock has a look of attentiveness that is much too serious for what must be the recitation of a humorous anecdote given the grin on Uhura’s face. Her eyes dance and the high ponytail swings as she shakes her head with a laugh at the memory, and that’s when the stonewall cracks, and the slightest hint of a smile curves the corners of Spock’s mouth. I’m not the only one who sees it, because Uhura softens, seems suddenly bashful, as if even she can’t believe she’s garnered an emotional reaction from that stoic bastard. Spock follows suit, his eyes dropping to the food on his plate, and the two of them sneak glances at one another like a couple of lovesick teenagers who have never experience the real world, before they’ve had their hearts ripped from their chests, sliced and diced, and served up like the stir fried vegetables on their trays while the divorce lawyers sprinkle on the soy sauce. It’s as sickening as it is charming, especially considering the two making goo-goo faces framed by angled eyebrows at one another.

With a roll of my eyes, I leave the love birds to their flirting and go in search of better dining companions.

On the opposite side of the cafeteria, our new chief engineer Montgomery Scott is talking with Lieutenant Sulu. Scotty. He wants to be called Scotty. Personally, I’m surprised he didn’t go with the less blatantly obvious but just as ridiculously trite Monty, but to each his own. Scotty was apparently, at least in Jim’s thinking, a natural choice to assume the role of chief engineer following the demise of our last chief thanks to the man having more bravery than brains; something I’ve accused Jim of on more than one occasion. At least when it came to opening his parachute following jumping from a goddamn spacecraft in low orbit around his intended landing zone, Jim Kirk’s meager survival instinct actually did come through and took control. Proof positive that wonders will never cease. The same, however, cannot be said for Chief Engineer Olson− deceased. And by the conversation I overhear, I’m not so sure we’ll have Chief Engineer Scott around long enough to settle into any nicknames.

"Picture it if you can," the low brogue challenges as the speaker leans forward across his lunch tray. "There I was, freezing my bum off in the blistering cold snow, trying to reorient the transponder, when I spotted it through the blinding snow as it came crashing across the frozen tundra with me in her sights… a snow lizard, twenty meters long if she was a centimeter."

Sulu’s intent face drops into a disbelieving frown.

Scotty, however, raises a hand to stop our helmsman before he can protest the supposed facts of the tale. "As I live and breath, ‘tis true."

Still not convinced, Sulu asks, "So, what did you do?"

Scotty doesn’t pass up his chance to continue his saga. "I only had seconds before she would be on me, a minute at the most, so I knew I had to work fast. It was an impossible situation, to say the least. One snap of her giant maw brimming with razor sharp teeth would be the end of me." Scotty’s hands act as the deadly mouth as his face screws up to mimic the snarl on the monster. "And all I had was my phaser, the transponder, and what was to be my saving grace…. a field of perfectly clear ice crystals."

Personally, I have no clue what a man faced with a giant, man-eating lizard would do with those three things other than hope the lizard slipped on the ice and impaled itself on the transponder post, or if that didn’t happen, hope when he pissed his pants the hypothermia would take him before the lizard did.

Sulu, however, quickly catches on to what Scotty is suggesting; although he doesn’t seem to believe it anymore than the yarn being spun out at the table. "You don’t mean to tell me you routed your phaser through the transponder and then refracted it through the ice crystals?"

Scotty beams proudly with an enthusiastic nod of his head. "In essence creating a phaser mine field that fired from dozens of different directions at once." When Sulu rolls his eyes, the engineer raises his hand solemnly. "As God as my witness, every word of it is truth." He taps earnestly at the table. "And, after the beast was down, I boosted the juice a wee bit and hit her again, this time cooking the meat all the way through."

Even I shake my head at that one. Scotty, however, leans back with a smug and reminiscent exhalation of breath. "It was the best meal I ate the entire time I was stuck on that hell hole of a frozen wasteland. Tender to the bone, that one; tender to her murderous yet succulent bones."

Honestly, I’m not sure if the gloating in the man is because of his supposed accomplishment on the icy planet or that he has managed to keep a straight face while feeding Sulu that load of horseshit.

Scotty looks up, spots me, and his face breaks into a wide, eager smile at the potential of luring in another victim. "Doctor! Come join us. I was just telling the Lieutenant about one of many adventures on…"

I ignore the enthusiastic pat to the seat next to him and cut him off. "Thanks, but I can’t… regrettably." I try to put as much remorse as possible into my voice, sure that I come across as believable as Scotty’s load of bull he’s just fed to Sulu. "I have an important lunch meeting. No time to chat."

"With whom?" Scotty looks around the nearly empty cafeteria in genuine curiosity.

I’m saved from being caught in my lie and bolting from the cafeteria and having to eat my steak beside a highly sedated Ensign Bixley by the arrival of Jim.

"Why, with the Captain, of course," I state loudly enough that Jim pauses and actually looks behind him with a frown of confusion, as if some other captain was also onboard the ship since no such meeting has been planned. Although, given the rather bizarre circumstances associated with how Jim came to command the ship, I’m tempted to look for the real captain myself. Instead, I force myself to motion to an empty table toward the center of the room. "Jim, I’ll be waiting over here."

With a less than certain bob of his head in acknowledgement of our nonexistent appointment, Jim retrieves a beverage from the replicator and comes to sit at the table where I’m already carving into my steak. I have to give credit where credit it due; as big a pain in the ass as the replicators can be, they can pop out some mighty tasty meat.

Jim eyes the meal then me, both with the same wariness. "Were we supposed to meet for lunch or something?"

"You don’t remember?" I ask innocently around a large piece of replicated beef. "Is the stress of command getting to you? I have something that might help with that. Stop by the infirmary…"

"NO!" His hand goes instinctively to cover the side of his neck. "No, I’m good. There’s just, apparently, a lot to remember when you’re captain of a Starfleet vessel."

I glance around the room to take in most of his senior staff members. "Like maybe leaving someone on deck to fly the ship?"

"Oh, I left Chekov with the bridge," he dismisses easily.

"Chekov?" I demand, actually stopping the cut through my baked potato. "You left Chekov in command?"

He frowns at my outburst. "Yeah, is that a problem?"

"The kid is what… twelve? And you left him to run the entire ship?"

"He’s not twelve." Jim snorts at the idea. "He’s an Academy graduate, same as you and me."

"He needs a note from his mother to stay out past second watch and a booster seat to see over the helm for God’s sake, and you left him with all of our lives in his hands?" I shake my head in wonder that after all these years Jim can still amaze me with his idiocy.

"He’s not as young as he looks, and you know it considering you have all his medical files."

"Birth certificates can be forged," I inform him, using my steak knife to accentuate the point.

"He was old enough to save my life."

Jim is speaking of the space diving incident where young Chekov, using his admittedly impressive transporter skills, was able to successfully lock onto the life signs of Kirk and Sulu in order to beam them safely back onboard the Enterprise.

"Is that how you plan to dole out promotions from now on? By someone saving your life?" I roll my eyes and go back to eating my lunch. "Given enough time and your proclivity for nearly getting yourself killed, everyone on this damn ship with be able to lay claim to that honor eventually." I jam a large piece of steak in my mouth and chew. "Hell, I’ve done it three or four times already."

Jim scowls at my assertion. "I don’t remember that many."

"It’s in the medical logs, I’m sure." And if it’s not, it will be by the time he stops by the infirmary again.

"The point is," Jim continues, "Chekov is perfectly capable of running this ship. Anyone is given what we’ve come up against so far." The last is spoken in a glum mumble.

We’ve been out of dock for a little over a week, and things have been quiet, much quieter than the last time we took the Enterprise out for a spin. Much quieter than someone like James T. Kirk can stand.

"Are you… bored?" I ask in amazement.

"No, I’m not bored," he argues, although his tone is that of a sullen teenager. "I just thought… as captain of a ship like Enterprise… things would be a little more…. you know… exciting."

I can’t believe my ears. He’s actually bored. Oh, hell, who am I kidding? Of course I believe it. After all, this is Jim Kirk we’re talking about.

"Exciting like getting your ass spanked and handed to you on a silver platter by every Romulan you laid eyes on, not to mention a temperamental Vulcan who was your shipmate?"

"No, of course not. I don’t mean we have to save the Federation every day, but it would be nice to see a little action now and again."

I force my best sympathetic face; the one I save for whiny little bastards who come in my infirmary and complain about having to receive their vaccines before heading into space and then complain even more when they catch something.

"Awww. Jim doesn’t have anyone to play with. Poor widdle fella." Jim’s rolled eyes only spur me on. "Hey, maybe you can start a bar brawl like you did in the good old days. You know, walk up to someone and make up an excuse to sock them in the nose." I demonstrate with a bit of shadow boxing where I sit before I look around the room in mock excitement at the idea, scouting prospects. "I’d avoid Spock if I was you; we already know you don’t stand a chance against him. And Uhura… she’d make mincemeat of you and not even have to throw a punch. Although, you might enjoy that a little too much. Do you think she has experience with whips?"

Jim seems to be considering the possibility, and given the sly and slightly dreamy expression that flashes across his face, I was right on the mark about his reaction to that possibility.

Moving my attention to the other table, I observe, "Sulu’s an option. Keep in mind he has a butter knife on his tray. Considering how good you told me he was with retractable swords, even a piece of dull cutlery could be a deadly weapon in his hands."

Jim shakes his head at my narrow-eyed warning as he sits back and crosses his arms to wait me out.

"Hey, there’s Scotty," I offer cheerfully, before amending with a conspiratorial grimace, "although I think he may be a little unstable, and definitely wily; best to steer clear of those types. He would, however, have a very rousing and potentially amusing tale to tell afterwards." I snap my fingers. "I know! Chekov! Surely you can take the kid. Then again, punching a minor could get you into serious trouble with Starfleet."

"Bones, you are such an ass." Jim slumps lower in his seat in a funk. "I’m a Starfleet captain now. I have to set the tone for this ship with my actions."

"God help us, we’ll be known as the party starship far and wide. Do you plan to make this a clothing optional mission?"

"I’m serious," he insists, and I can see that he is.

It’s a funny thing to see a friend you knew as little more than a punk-ass kid mature into a man, to see him start to cast aside those bad boy traits he wore as armor against the world for so long, and see the man you always knew was hiding under that façade start to reveal himself. Not that Jim Kirk has completed that journey just yet, not by a long shot…but he’s getting there.

A lot of winners stumble on their way out of the starting gate, but once they find their stride, they’re almost unstoppable. The entire crew of this ship was forced to hit the ground running thanks to Nero. There were plenty of mistakes made, plenty of heroics, and plenty of dumb luck that got us to the finish line. Now we get to start again, fresh and rested and with a plan, and I think that may actually be harder for a guy like Jim than being thrown feet first into the fire. It’s almost as if he needs to stumble and loose his footing now and again just so that he can come from behind and prove all the naysayers wrong.

Spock approaches our table, pausing a few steps back, as if measuring in his mind exactly what is the appropriate distance to maintain. Jim is his captain now, his commanding officer, and while even Spock would agree that is the most logical arrangement, I know it still sticks in his craw that he’s not the one in charge. It’s the same way I know Jim feels about Spock getting Uhura, both of them like car-chasing dogs that wouldn’t know what to do with the damn thing they supposedly want most if they had it.

"Captain," Spock greets with a slight incline of his head, and I have to give the man credit that he didn’t grind out the rank between gritted teeth. In fact, his expression is calm, almost serene, and I wonder absently if he’s been picking up pointers from the ship’s computer voice simulator.

"Spock," Jim returns amicably. "Good lunch?"

Spock glances back at where Jim is watching Lieutenant Uhura finish her meal. "It was quite enjoyable."

In many ways, Spock is as the opposite end of the spectrum from Kirk. Whereas Jim shines brightest in chaotic situations, Spock excels when he’s in control, conceiving a plan and executing it with razor sharp precision. He leaves the gate strong and steady and doesn’t ease up until the race is won. They could each learn something from the other, and given time, I think they will. There’s the possibility that there could be more between these two men someday… admiration, respect, even friendship. Right now, though, they’re still working out the kinks, feeling each other out. There’s a certain oil and water chemistry between them now; they may not blend into a cohesive unit just yet, but the juncture point between them ebbs and flows seamlessly together.

The slightly satisfied curve of Spock’s mouth at the way Jim frowns at the fact he wasn’t the one dining with Uhura just proves my point. "I was wondering if you would like for me to go relieve Ensign Chekov on the bridge."

Before Jim can respond, I answer for him. "Oh, God, yes. Take the wheel from Junior before he flies us straight into a star cluster and does something worse than scratch the paint job."

Spock raises one slanted eyebrow at my reaction, but waits for his captain’s orders.

Jim shoots me a dirty look that I ignore as I scoop a bite of baked potato with the works from my plate, then he tells his first officer, "Take your time going back to the bridge; the experience will do Mr. Chekov some good."

"As your own vast experience at command has served you so well, Captain." The small angle at the corner of the Vulcan’s mouth is the only sign that what he said wasn’t absolutely sincere.

Damn, I’m starting to like this pointy-eared bastard more and more.

"What? You mean in comparison to your time as captain of the Enterprise?" Now it’s Jim’s turn to give a cocky lift of his eyebrows. But I know Jim Kirk better than most, and there’s no heat behind the dig, in fact, I think he’s actually enjoying this new give and take.

Spock’s head tilts minutely to the side in a silent acknowledgment of touché. "I will call you if there are any problems, Captain."

"Please," Jim requests almost desperately to Spock’s retreating back.

He shakes his head as he turns back around. "Can you believe that there is an old version of me out there somewhere who was best friends with a prick like that?"

He’s speaking, of course, about what he learned of the other timeline from the older Spock, the one who was being pursued by the Romulans who killed Jim’s own father. Fate is a fickle mistress, to paraphrase the poets of old. In reality, she’s a coldhearted bitch. How else do you explain how in one timeline, the Vulcans lived long and prospered, and in this one, they are all but extinct as a race? It makes you stop and wonder about other things that might have been different. Did Jim Kirk grow up with a father in the other timeline if his dad hadn’t found himself facing down Nero’s ship? Did that Jim Kirk have siblings and learn from an early age to trust others instead of hiding behind a defiant solo bravado? Did he have confidence instilled in him by a family at his back instead of facing the world as if his back was always against the wall? If the Kelvin hadn’t been destroyed by a ship that never should have been here, would Jim Kirk be a different man today as a result? Would he be more in line with what the old Spock would consider a friend?

How does fate decide which man lives and which race of people is wiped from the cosmos? Does it find it ironic that a people who have devoted their lives to controlling their emotions would be decimated by a psychopath filled with hate and hell bent on revenge? Is it fair that a good man, a brave and honest man, like George Kirk has to die on the Kelvin and leave his son fatherless moments after he was born while a soul sucking harpy like my ex-wife lives on to torment humanity? Like I said, fate is a coldhearted bitch… and so is the she-devil who still gets an alimony check every godforsaken month from me.

Apparently my thoughts show a little too clearly on my face, or maybe it’s the way I saw viciously into my steak. Whatever the reason, it has Jim asking in a little worry, "Doc?"

"Never mind." I shake my head. "Nothing to concern yourself with," I assure.

"Yeah, that seems to be the consensus around here," he mumbles.

Fed up with the attitude I tell him, "Jim, you’re the goddamn captain on the premiere starship in the fleet. This is space we’re talking about; it’s the final frontier. And now we’re one week into a five year mission and you’re already bored. That is not only the most ludicrous thing I’ve ever heard, it is quite honestly one of the more pathetic, as well."

"I just thought there’d be… more to it."

"Look," I offer, "we’re supposed to be exploring new worlds. Surely a few of them will be filled with bad ass unfriendly types that will be more than willing to knock you around a few times."

He snorts. "It’s not that I’m looking for trouble."

"You’ll be seeking out new life and new civilizations. What could be more exciting than that?"

He shrugs with an unimpressed, "Eh."

"You’ll be boldly going where no man has gone before," I try one last time.

That has him leaning forward with a prideful and slightly predatory grin. "Actually, I did that the night before we shipped out."

"Let me guess," I interrupt, pretty sure of where he’s heading with this. "You deflowered a virgin?"

"Curious lesbians," he corrects my assumption, a waggle of eyebrows accentuating the smirk on his face.

My fork stops halfway to my mouth. "Lesbians plural? Lesbians with an S at the end?"

He traces the s-shape in the air before leaning back in his seat again, the smirk still firmly glued to his damn face.

I set my knife and fork down, fold my hands, and look him straight in his twinkling eyes. "Jim, having known you for several years now, and having heard of your myriad sexual conquests and failures over that same time period, I can say with unequivocal certainty that you, my friend, are a slut."

If anything, his gloating just grows. "You’re just jealous."

I roll my eyes at the accusation and take up my silverware again. "I swear to God, I don’t know whether I should be jealous or if I should have you removed from duty for what is obviously a psychological disorder of mind-boggling proportions."

The smile fades. "Wait, you can actually do that? Have me removed from duty for something like that?"

"You may be captain, but I’m the chief medical officer on this ship." Now it’s my turn to shoot him a wicked grin as I cut another piece of meat. "Don’t fool yourself into thinking you’re the one who wields the real power around here."

"A chief medical officer who eats a meal that can clog every artery in his body," he scoffs.

"It’s replicated," I remind. "That takes all the dangerous levels of fat and cholesterol out of it and leaves behind a pretty damn good imitation of a Porterhouse steak."

"A Porterhouse?" Jim parrots in amazement. "For lunch?"

"There are ten thousand, four hundred and eighty-three varieties of steak in the database," I tell him matter-of-factly as I chew the meat in satisfaction. "A man has to start somewhere."

Before he can say anything else about my meal choice, his communicator chirps. "Captain," Spock calls, "we are receiving a distress signal from an Orion freighter."

"Now we’re talking," Jim mumbles happily to me, already standing as that proverbial starting gate opens before him. He taps the communicator on his shirt. "Set an intercept course, Mr. Spock; I’m on my way back to the bridge."

And… they’re off!

The other crew members in the cafeteria hear the report and are already heading for their assigned duty stations. Me? I don’t stop eating. If this little side trip ends up being the trouble Jim’s been craving, it’ll do me good to have a square meal under my belt.

Instead, I chew on a bacon bit covered in sour cream and call encouragingly, "I’ve got my fingers crossed for you that it’s a trap, Jim."

His middle finger isn’t crossed as he flips me off behind his back without turning around and without breaking stride as he starts back to his rightful place on the bridge. So far, not a stumble in sight.

I raise my voice to be heard as he passes through the cafeteria door. "Maybe a Romulan ambush, or at the very least, malicious space pirates."

Yes, there are ten thousand, four hundred and eighty-three varieties of steak in the database of this ship, but only one captain, and in this particular universe, only one James Tiberius Kirk …

God help us all if there were any more.

The End

I'm back!

2009-06-16T01:23:07Z

Did you miss me? Did you even realize I wasn't here? *G* Actually the past month has been nuts and I just returned from a week on the North Carolina coast where I spent a lot of time sitting on the beach, doing a little reading (which I never get to do) and generally doing a whole lot of nothing so that now I'm woefully behind on everything else in my life. But one thing I didn't get to do was post that Episode 2 is now available on the Beyond Atlantis Virtual Season 6. Be sure and check it out, and while you're there, you can catch a little sneak peek of my episode that is up next on July 7!

The link is here.

FIC: Snow Day- Part 2 (SGA Gen)

2009-06-02T06:09:01Z

Men. These men. These boys was more like it. Teyla had been frustrated with her teammates before, but the recklessness of John going out into a snowstorm, injured and disoriented, and Rodney refusing to stay behind even though Major Lorne would have come in his stead was only overcome by Ronon first dropping into the water in the open pit and now refusing to remove the sodden clothing even though he still sat shivering after all this time.

"You are endangering your life, not to mention delaying Colonel Sheppard’s return to Atlantis, by remaining wet."

Ronon was military-trained. Even if he was not technically part of John’s military, he had accepted the fact that the colonel outranked him almost as soon as they met. Over time, Ronon had begun to show his independent streak, but his devotion to John had never wavered and Teyla had reached the point where she was desperate enough to try to exploit that fact.

Ronon just pulled the sleeping bag draped over his shoulders a little tighter around the dry upper half of his body, before leaning in and admitting quietly, "I can’t, okay. So just stop asking."

Her anger turned to confusion as Teyla asked, "What do you mean? You are not capable of removing your pants?" His coat and boots already sat on the ground by the fire, but the soaking pants he refused to remove were what had Teyla arguing with him.

"No." Ronon watched Rodney lead John to the other sleeping bag and ease him down before turning back to the woman staring at him with crossed arms. He shifted uncomfortably before admitting, "I don’t have anything on… underneath."

Teyla blinked in surprise even as she bit her lower lip to keep from giggling. Rodney, who was unzipping John’s coat to allow the heat from the fire to reach the man’s body, shook his head. "Well, I guess that settles the boxers versus briefs debate most of the women on my staff have going."

Ronon growled low in his throat at the comment and Teyla did her best to maintain a straight face.

Rodney ignored them, simply removing his own gloves and placing his hands in front of the fire to warm them before moving to John’s boots. "Shit, they’re frozen." Trying to snap and failing due to his fingers being stiff from the cold, Rodney instead wiggled them laboriously. "Ronon, I need a knife."

A knife appeared in the Satedan’s hand, and Teyla was amazed once again at how fast he could produce one from seemingly nowhere. Taking it, Rodney set to cutting the ice-coated laces. Teyla took the opportunity to try to reassure Ronon. "I am more than aware of the male…physiology. We have known each other for a while now, Ronon, and there is no need to be embarrassed by…."

"Oh, that is so not helping," Ronon told her as he turned his back on her.

"This is why you should wear longer shirts, Big Guy," John informed him as Rodney removed his boot and peeled away the sock.

"Dammit, I was afraid of this; frostbite’s setting in."

Teyla could see the early stages of discoloration and swelling that Rodney had seen. "It will help if you warm them on your stomach, Rodney."

"I know, I know. I had the goddamn survival training in Antarctica," the scientist grumbled as he cut away the laces on the second boot. "You are going to owe me big time for this one, Colonel."

"You are as well-trained as Rodney," Teyla pointed out to the stubborn man beside her. "You know for your own well-being you need to remove the wet clothes."

"I’m not running around naked in a cave with all of you here."

"Well, technically, you’ll be sitting…." When both Teyla and Ronon glared at him, Rodney closed his mouth.

At this point, she was getting desperate, and Ronon’s rather surprisingly prudish behavior had pushed her to the brink of madness. "Very well, if you feel so self-conscious being unclothed in front of me, then I shall also be unclothed in front of you."

"What?" John demanded where he lay on the floor.

At the same time Ronon literally jumped back from her and exclaimed, "Oh, no you aren’t."

Rodney sat looking at her expectantly. "Seems fair to me."

Both Ronon and John protested his observation with an angry, "McKay!"

Raising his hand to appease the other men, Rodney offered, "Look, seeing as I’m being really gracious today and using my own precious body heat to make sure Sheppard doesn’t lose his toes, I’ll help you out, too, Ronon. I carry an extra pair of boxers in my backpack. They’re yours if it will keep Teyla from discussing her experience with male physiology any more… although I don’t see a problem with her removing her clothes in the spirit of team camaraderie."

"Are you willing to strip down, too?" John challenged.

Before Rodney could answer, Ronon cut in. "No one’s taking their clothes off, and I’m not wearing your boxers, McKay."

John tilted his head back to look at him. "Ronon, drop the pants; that’s an order. Whether you wear Rodney’s underwear or swing free in the breeze, I don’t care. But you’re going to get dry. Actually, I do care; wear the boxers."

Ronon snarled but went to dig through Rodney’s backpack. Teyla could not decide if she was more thankful that he had finally given in to the order or frustrated that he would not simply listen to reason in the first place. "I’m not doing it while she’s here," the angry man informed his team leader with a jut of his chin toward Teyla.

"When you are ready to change, I will go gather more wood for the fire," she sighed exhaustedly.

Rodney had removed the second sock and was staring at the red, swollen feet with dread. "You shower in the locker room sometimes, don’t you? I mean, community showers are a breeding ground for fungal infections and the like, especially on the feet."

"Rodney…."

Teyla’s warning tone had Rodney snapping a testy, "Okay, okay," before gritting his teeth with a high pitched, "Holy fuck!" as he placed John’s feet on his stomach. "Ohhhhhh… That is just… wow." With his face screwed in distress, he ground out, "You so totally suck, Sheppard."

"Not exactly my first choice for how I want to spend my day, either, Rodney." He exhaled and the shudders running through him started to slow. "Don’t take this the wrong way, McKay, but that feels so good it hurts."

"I really think I hate you right now." But Rodney pulled his shirt back over the feet and placed his hand over them to warm them from the top, as well.

Teyla knelt beside John with a cup and helped him remove his coat while folding the sleeping bag over him. "I have made tea. Drink it slowly. It will help warm you."

"Thanks," he told her with a pat to her hand.

"Hello?" Rodney demanded. "She makes tea while I drag you through a blizzard and let you freeze my internal organs from the inside out with your Rocket Pop feet and you’re thanking her?"

"Well, she did start the fire, too." John’s justification had Rodney rolling his eyes even as he continued to heat John’s feet.

Teyla squeezed the put-upon physicist’s shoulder with a consoling grin and placed a cup within easy reach for him. "You could use some, too." Her grin grew when Ronon found the underwear in Rodney’s pack.

"You have got to be kidding me."

Ronon was holding a pair of boxer shorts that appeared to be covered with a multitude of small faces of a scientist Teyla had seen pictures of in the Earth history databases she had studied. "Is that… Albert Einstein?"

"Yes." Rodney’s chin lifted in that way Teyla knew was his desire to look as if he was not embarrassed even though he most definitely was. "Katie gave them to me as a gift. She said one amazing head deserved a hundred more." Rodney left his own head lifted but he refused to look at any of his teammates.

Teyla was fairly sure the red on his cheeks had little to do with the lingering chill. She could not understand why a gift from a woman with whom he was intimate would embarrass him so. She also could not understand why John was suddenly choking on the chortle he was trying to control.

"She gave you underwear… in honor of your amazing head?"

Ronon was also snickering, which caused Teyla to furrow her brow more. Things became clearer when Rodney’s lips also twitched.

"She’s a sweet girl, but I don’t think she really understands how phallic she can be sometimes," explained Rodney.

Phallic was a word Teyla did understand and given the rather odd plant the botanist had named after Rodney, she knew Rodney was correct in his assessment. And by the way the three men had descended in all-out fits of laughter, she quickly came to the conclusion that head must have an… alternative meaning. This was much of the disadvantage of being a woman on the team. Whereas Ronon spent a great deal of time with many of the marines, who no doubt spoke openly with him, they tended to be much less crude and much more polite around Teyla. While that may have left her out of the meaning of many jokes, in the end, she really did not mind.

Standing, she decided now would be the time to allow Ronon to change out of his wet clothes. "I will leave the three of you to contemplate amazing heads. I have more important tasks, like maintaining our supply of wood for the fire."

"Yes," Rodney agreed, mustering all the sincerity he could, "maintaining wood is very important."

If possible, the three started laughing harder. With a roll of her eyes, she zipped her coat and headed back out into the snow.

Men. They were the same the universe over.

When she returned, she saw Ronon’s pants had joined the pile of wet clothes, and he sat near the fire with the sleeping bag wrapped tightly around him. She assumed he was wearing the underwear Rodney had volunteered, but honestly could not tell, nor did she care, as long as he was out of the wet garments. Dropping the fuel for their fire nearby so it could also dry, she shook the snow from her coat.

"The storm does not seem to be weakening any. I do not believe it would be wise to attempt to return to the Jumper until at least day break unless it is absolutely necessary."

"We have food, water, a fire," Ronon pointed out. "As long as Sheppard doesn’t need a doctor, I don’t see a problem with staying here for the night."

Teyla knelt beside John and checked his feet. "They are looking much better and have warmed significantly."

"Well, you know, McKay’s ego is an energy source all its own. It’s better than a heating pad."

"I’m glad you think so, Sheppard," grumbled Rodney. "Teyla’s brew has now officially turned to iced tea in my stomach."

"I do not think it will take much longer, Rodney," Teyla assured him before turning her attention back to John. "And how is your head feeling?"

"McKay ran through the typical twenty questions with me… and a few more just to throw me off."

Rodney shrugged at John’s addendum. "Anyone who’s taken differential equations should be able to tell me the Euler-Cauchy equations."

"I have a hell of a headache, more so thanks to Rodney trying to pull twenty-year old math skills out my brain, but getting out of the weather and seeing you guys has helped."

She looked questioningly at Rodney for confirmation of John’s diagnosis.

The scientist bobbled his head. "Paltry mathematical proficiency aside, he was able to answer all the basic questions. And this is the most coherent he’s been since I found him. As long as he keeps it up, I don’t think his brain is going to rattle loose and fall out on the ground."

"Any nausea?" Teyla inquired, returning her attention to Sheppard.

"Comes and goes," John admitted. "I’ll warn you if your shoes are in danger."

"Very well. I shall contact Major Lorne and let him know not to expect us tonight."

Lorne was reluctant to leave the planet, just in case they did need his help, and Teyla was honestly just as happy to have him standing by. By the time she finished the notification, Rodney had decided John’s feet were warm enough to fend for themselves. He helped John sit up, steadying him when he swayed precariously.

Ronon reached out a hand to brace him from the opposite side. "Maybe sitting wasn’t such a good idea."

John waved a hand to dismiss the concern from his teammates. "It’s nothing. I just sat up a little too fast and had a head rush."

"Scoot over, Sheppard," Rodney ordered, taking off his own coat and sitting beside him.

"I told you it was nothing. I just got a little dizzy and it’s already passed."

"Great. Glad to hear it. Now scoot over and share the sleeping bag. You aren’t the only one who spent half the day walking in the snow." Without waiting for an answer, Rodney simply bullied his way next to John and sat shoulder-to-shoulder with him under the sleeping bag.

"Where’s your bag?" John grumped, but Teyla noticed he leaned against Rodney, whether to soak up a little more warmth or to keep from falling over, she could not be sure.

"Ronon’s using it," Rodney told him sarcastically. "That’s just the type of giving guy I am."

Finally realizing what Rodney was getting at, John looked to Teyla. "There’s only two sleeping bags?"

"We had to leave the others with Lorne and his men to transport the injured marines."

"Oh," was all John said in reply before finally grimacing. "I guess I kind of threw a kink in the rescue mission by leaving the crash."

"Yeah."

"Somewhat."

"Pretty much, yes, you did."

John’s grimace just grew when his team simultaneously confirmed his worries. "I thought I was doing the right thing."

Teyla gave him an understanding smile. "You had the best interest of those under your command at heart. We all know that."

Rodney, however, was not about to let him off the hook. "But it was a totally idiotic thing to do. And we all know that, too."

"You know, McKay, maybe you should go share a sleeping bag with Ronon," John suggested.

Rodney opened his mouth to make what was undoubtedly a biting comment back to John, but Ronon cut him off. "No! Teyla needs to warm up."

Teyla gave Ronon a sideways glance, certain his eagerness to share his blanket with her had more to do with his wish not to share one with Rodney. Removing her coat, Teyla sat beside the Satedan with a knowing grin. "Thank you, Ronon. This is most thoughtful of you."

"That’s me." He beamed a gloating smirk at Sheppard and received a disgruntled roll of eyes in return from the other men.

To be honest, it was nice to share a little warmth. The fire definitely heated the cave, and the cave itself was a significant improvement over the weather outside, but neither could compare to the closeness of another person. Outside, the wind had picked up as another thunderstorm moved into the area. Teyla pulled the sleeping bag closer around her shoulders when thunder rumbled and the inside of the cave was lit by the flash of light.

"This reminds me of a time I was on a hunting trip when I was a young woman. A strong storm came upon us and we could not leave the temporary dwellings we had set up. I was trapped in a tent about half the size of this cave for two days with my best friend, her brother and his girlfriend." Teyla shook her head in exasperated humor at the memory of the events.

"How did that go over?" John asked.

"The young lovers were no longer a couple by the time the storm finally passed and I was ready to take my chances against the winds and rain long before that."

"You should try being trapped in the backseat of a VW bug for ten hours straight with a sister who threw up every time the car went around a curve." Rodney grimaced in disgust at the recollection. "I was begging my parents to drop me at the nearest bus station and I’d meet them at my grandparent’s house. But would they take pity on a sympathetic puker? Nooooo. Just handed me my own bucket and kept driving."

Ronon stared at Rodney for a few seconds before telling them, "Once, when I was on the run from the Wraith, I was stuck in a cave for two weeks with nothing to eat but the rotting carcass of a hibernating animal."

Rodney paled and gagged, which had Ronon grinning wickedly as he continued. "I actually used it to keep warm for three days before I started eating…"

When Rodney slammed his hand over his mouth and turned his back on his tormenter, that’s when John had had enough. "Oh, hell, Ronon, I’m the one he’s going to puke on if you keep this up. And you better believe I’ll pull the damn rank card and stick him in your sleeping bag if he does."

Ronon could hardly contain his humor at Rodney’s reaction, but he did stop talking.

Teyla gave him a disapproving glare before asking, "Rodney, would you like some more tea? Perhaps it would settle your stomach."

Rodney shook his head violently at the suggestion and dropped his head between his knees, which just intensified Teyla’s glower at Ronon.

"What? I thought we were swapping stories," he defended.

Teyla’s expression changed to silently tell the Satedan she was not buying that excuse.

She hitched her head toward Rodney, making Ronon sigh. "Hey, McKay, it wasn’t true. I was just messing with you." When Rodney remained silent, he tried again. "You know, just having a little fun."

Rodney still didn’t respond and John patted his back benevolently. "You okay, buddy?"

Holding up his hand to tell John to just wait a second, he stood abruptly and bolted to where Ronon and Teyla sat, hand still over his mouth, until he reached the Satedan and removed it and made a violent retching noise. Teyla and Ronon both stood abruptly, Ronon exclaiming a sound somewhere between a denial and an indecipherable yell as he looked down at where Rodney had vomited on the Einstein boxers… only to see nothing. Looking up in confusion, he saw Rodney rocking back on his heels with an all too familiar smug grin.

"Now who’s messing with who?"

Teyla’s shock at what she had thought Rodney had done transmuted to amusement at what he actually had done and she started to laugh. John quickly joined her.

Ronon still seemed to be processing exactly what had happened. When he finally did, he took a threatening step toward Rodney. "McKay, I am going to…."

"What? Try to disgust me with rotten food stories? Me? The man who considers a little mold a flavor enhancer?"

John backed up Rodney’s claim. "He’s right, Ronon. You’ve seen the way he eats. He ate half a cookie he found under a naquada generator the other day, and no one had been in the room in over three months."

Teyla placed a halting hand on Ronon’s arm to make sure he did no more than threaten the prankster. "Now that we have discussed less than appealing meals, maybe we should eat some… MREs that is."

"Like you said," John drawled, scooting back to lean against the wall of the cave, "a less than appealing meal."

If anything, Rodney’s playacting had only increased his appetite, and he clapped his hands together briskly. "Thank God, I’m starving. Half my lunch was ruined by the flame retardant."

"Flame retardant?" John asked in worry. "What the hell happened?"

Rodney rummaged happily in the packs for the meals, telling John about the malfunctions on Atlantis, pausing only long enough to read the labels of the food packets by the faint firelight. He doled them out, handing each of his teammates the meal they liked most… or disliked least, as the case may be.

As they ate, Teyla told of the funeral she attended, the elaborate ceremony, the tedious eulogies, and the touching final goodbyes from the elder statesman’s countrymen.

Ronon told them the highlight of his day was discovering that the majestic city of the Ancestors really could be one of the most boring places in the universe, although seeing McKay doused in fire suppressant foam made up for some of the boredom.

Teyla noticed John had only eaten about half his meal and was slumping a little more into Rodney as he leaned his head back against the stone wall and closed his eyes. "John? How are you feeling?" She could not help but look out at the storm still raging outside. It would be difficult, dangerous to travel through the woods in these conditions in full darkness, but if necessary, she would. They all would. For John.

He squinted over at her, the flames causing the shadows to flicker across his face, but he managed a reassuring curl of his lips. "Just getting tired and my headache’s coming back. Nothing too bad."

"We have mild painkillers," she told him, retrieving them from her own pack before giving him the two small pills and a new cup of tea. "Rest for a while. We will wake you in an hour."

Rodney had already moved away to allow John the use of the sleeping bag and he stretched out. "Yeah, I know the routine." Pulling the coverings up under his chin John closed his eyes and yawned. "You know what this whole thing reminds me of?"

"Most of our missions, with the addition of hypothermia?" Rodney snorted as he draped his coat back around his shoulders and put another log on the fire.

"No," John countered, "it reminds me of snow days."

At first Teyla thought his disorientation must have returned because that was exactly what they had experienced, a day filled with snow. So how could that be a fond memory?

But then Rodney exclaimed, "Ha! I can count the number of days I got off from school because of snow on my hands," and she realized this was something unique to Earth.

"These snow days… they are a type of holiday back on Earth?" asked Teyla.

John smiled at her question, but didn’t open his eyes. "For a kid they are… at least kids who grow up in areas where snow plows aren’t the official national animal."

Rodney shook his head at the jab at his homeland. "Believe me, Sheppard, I cursed Canada’s exemplary public works departments on more than one occasion when I had to go out in weather worse than this to catch a damn bus to school."

"And walk uphill both ways?" John scoffed.

"Actually, yes. The bus picked up and let off at two different locations."

"So it snows and everything just shuts down?" Ronon asked in amazement.

"Pretty much," John informed them. "Didn’t it snow on Sateda?"

"Sure, but we didn’t whine about it and hide inside."

"We didn’t whine," John countered. "It was a public safety issue. You can’t have school buses full of children sliding off cliffs. People don’t tend to approve of that sort of thing. So they canceled school and you got to go play in the snow and when you got cold you came inside with your buddies and hung out. Kind of like this."

"Except instead of a bus full of kids, you had a Jumper full of marines’ crash," Ronon reminded him.

"And I wouldn’t exactly consider roaming aimlessly through a blizzard with a head injury until you fell in a hole playing in the snow," Rodney challenged.

"Okay, fine, that part isn’t quite the same, but the hanging with your friends part is. Right?"

"Did you wear each other’s underwear?" Ronon asked.

"What? No." Taking a breath, John tried again. "I guess what I’m trying to say here is that if I’m going to be stuck in a cave during a snowstorm with a bunch of people, you guys would be…my first choice." As if embarrassed by his admission, John turned his back to them. "Although I’d skip playing footsie with Rodney’s stomach and seeing Einstein’s heads floating around Ronon’s private areas."

John drifted off and the others put away the remnants of their meals… after Rodney took all the coffee packets and started mixing a cup for himself. Teyla braved the storm yet again, this time to gather some more snow to melt for water. When she returned, Ronon had moved to lean against the wall on the opposite side of the fire from John. Rodney was sitting near John, a cup of coffee in his hand.

"You will not be able to sleep if you continue to drink that," Teyla chided.

"Please, this stuff barely qualifies as caffeinated. Besides, I’m going to stay up and do the checks on Sheppard a few more times, just to be sure."

"Very well. Wake us if you need anything." She joined Ronon, placing her coat behind her to provide a barrier between the wall and floor and pulled the sleeping bag over them. She could not claim it to be toasty warm but it was not cold with the fire and shared body heat and they were safe. In the end that was all that mattered.

It was ironic to think she had started the day with a funeral to honor the memory of man who had lived a rich and full life and had feared she might end it with the premature death of another man who should have many more years ahead of him. She had experienced grief, remembrance, fear, worry, relief, frustration, and humor all in the same day, had been through an emotional tempest to rival the one whipping the snow around outside. But since she had become a resident on Atlantis, that had become the norm, thanks in large part to the three men huddled together with her in a cave.

These men. Her men. Her team.

Settling in against Ronon, Teyla closed her eyes, finally giving in to the exhaustion she’d been holding at bay for so long.

* * * *

When John woke, he was kind of surprised not to see McKay leaning over him demanding, "Name, rank, and serial number, Colonel." That’s how he’d been awakened the past three times, but the last time when John had added the scientist’s favorite computer password to the list of information being demanded of him, Rodney must have come to the conclusion that Sheppard’s brain was, indeed, mostly intact. No, this time it was the need to piss that pulled him from sleep. Given the way Teyla had been pushing tea on him since they’d arrived in the cave, he was a little surprised it had taken this long to pass through his system.

Sitting up, he saw Rodney laying nearby, curled on his side by the fire with John’s coat over his legs and his own coat over the top half of his body. Yeah, they’d no doubt hear about misaligned vertebrae and imminent paraplegia in the morning. Hell, Lorne and his men would probably be able to hear the patented McKay bitching and moaning from where they waited for them in the Jumper. When he threw back the sleeping bag to stand, the noise had Ronon waking and looking across the fire at him. And when the big guy tensed, Teyla, who was leaning against him in sleep, woke, as well.

"It’s okay." Sheppard fell silent when Rodney mumbled in his sleep, waiting until the man settled back into a deeper breathing pattern before continuing in a lowered voice. "I just need to… you know."

Ronon’s only acknowledgment was to slump back and close his eyes, almost instantly snoring again. John couldn’t help but snort. He’d never met anyone like the Satedan. A man who could scare the bejesus out of an enemy with little more than a guttural growl one minute, then scoop you up in a bear hug the next. Once you got to know him, you realized he had just as many moods as he had knives hidden on his body, each just as elusive and just as surprising when you saw one appear from out of the blue.

Yeah, Ronon was one of a kind, but so were the other two members of his team. Teyla, who had already drifted back to sleep, had been almost as surprising as Ronon. The exotic beauty from the third world society he’d thought she was when they first met had quickly revealed herself to be so much more. She was a seasoned diplomat and negotiator, a deadly warrior who had quickly become as adept with the Earth guns as she was in Athosian hand-to-hand combat, and more able to follow McKay’s nonstop scientific discourse than John was.

And then there was Rodney. What could you say about McKay that the man hadn’t already said about himself? Brilliant? Sure. Arrogant? Oh, hell yeah. A pain in the ass? Definitely. Brave? More so than he gave himself credit for. But those were the traits everyone could see. Sheppard had learned over the years that McKay could be so much more… funny, self-deprecating, goofy, fun to hang out with, and a friend, a real, honest-to-God friend who provided a steady base even in the middle of the chaos life in the Pegasus galaxy meant. Even when Rodney was falling victim to the stress, he helped John keep it together, because controlling McKay was something he could do, even when there was nothing else to do. In fact, he was probably one of the few who could coax the impossible out of Rodney with little more than a smart-ass comment.

The thing was, Sheppard couldn’t imagine Atlantis without McKay. The two had melded in his mind stronger than his ATA gene allowed him to meld with the city. Even when he was in the control chair, he could sense McKay’s mark there, in the tweaking of the sensor arrays, the boost of the shield generator, the reallocation of one system’s power to aid another. It was like he could see Rodney’s shadow flickering on the periphery of Atlantis whenever he used the control chair. And even though he’d never admit it out loud, he found it comforting to know he was there, because John had learned over the years that he couldn’t always trust the Ancients or their technology, but he could sure the hell trust McKay.

Walking the short distance to the makeshift door of tree branches, John set to relieving his bladder. It looked like the blizzard had finally weakened and there was only a light, steady snow falling. The clouds were breaking up allowing the moonlight to cut through the trees and reflect off the deepening powder. All in all, John didn’t mind snow as long as he wasn’t at risk of dying of hypothermia. Antarctica had been a turning point in his life. There had been others along the way, like when he’d walked away from what many would consider the good life. But he had finally deciding that a harder life he could actually call his own was better than the one his father could buy for him as long as John followed the Sheppard family rulebook. Anyone who knew John Sheppard knew playing by the rules wasn’t his strong suit and the fact that his father expected him to do just that went to show how little interest the man had taken in getting to know his son. Even his brother couldn’t understand why John would rather fly helicopters than follow in their father’s footsteps, and eventually even his relationship with Dave had turned as frigid as the air near the opening of the cave. The irony was that it had taken being shipped to one of the coldest places on Earth to find the familial warmth and acceptance he’d always craved.

Unconsciously, Sheppard found his thoughts drifting back to the three people with him in the cave, the people who had given him what he’d always tried to get from his biological family, without him ever having to ask. McKay, in particular, had filled a gap he’d never even known was there and he’d done it without either one of them realizing it had happened. But then Rodney had nearly died playing with an ascension machine, had John thinking he was dead when the alien crystal played fast and loose with his deepest fears, had volunteered to die to save Jeannie, had risked his life time and time again to save Sheppard, and John realized he’d had a brother all that time and never known it.

Maybe it was because Antarctica had been a turning point for Rodney, as well. It was a second chance for both of them. It was funny that they’d both been punished for doing what they thought was the right thing and Atlantis had allowed them to finally prove to themselves and everyone else what kind of men they were capable of being. John wasn’t fooling himself into thinking that either one of them could have done that without the other. Whether McKay would admit that was another story, but Sheppard knew he wouldn’t deny it if pushed on the matter.

Zipping up, John turned his attention back to the winter scene outside. The storm had evidently blown out as fast as it had blown in. When he had come through the gate with Stackhouse’s team, it hadn’t been snowing much harder than it was now. They’d figured it wasn’t anything to worry about; they’d start their recon and see what they found, weigh their options for even leaving the Jumper if anything showed up. Ends up they did find something; a desolate village, probably culled decades before. The energy and life sign readings were negative but John figured they might as well check it out while they were there. They spent an hour rummaging through the remains of the main settlement, went up in the Jumper again, found a few outlying camps and walked through them, too. By that time, the storm had grown stronger, the winds had picked up, and it actually started to lightning… in a goddamn snowstorm. That was a first for Sheppard and it was also when he had decided to call it a day and headed back to Atlantis. Unfortunately, they never made it that far. The entire control console on the Jumper had sizzled mid-flight, the radios had popped loudly in his ear, Sheppard had lost all control of the ship, and they’d plummeted from the sky.

When he’d come to, Rodney was slumped on the floor and bleeding… everywhere. He’d looked to check on Teyla, only to see Myers lying unconscious with his head resting on the DHD. And where Ronon should have been, Lewis was gritting his teeth and bracing his leg. Looking back in confusion, he’d realized it wasn’t Rodney who was hurt, but Morgan. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to keep that straight and his mind kept wandering back to the thought that McKay was the one who wasn’t going to make it if help didn’t come. And seeing as they weren’t overdue for several more hours and no one else was mobile, that meant the only way to let Atlantis know they needed medical assistance was to go tell them himself.

Lewis had tried to talk him out of going, but even after they’d stopped the bleeding from the gash on Rodney’s… Morgan’s head, he’d felt the sickly divot in the skull, and he knew the man didn’t have a chance in hell of surviving without a doctor. John honestly didn’t know how long he’d been walking in the snow by the time McKay found him. It was just a blur of white, wind, and blistering cold. His thoughts had drifted like the snow swirling around his legs– memories of stories about people in North Dakota going out to check their mail in January and their bodies not being found until the spring thaw, memories of sledding with some kids from school and crashing headfirst into a fire hydrant, memories of the Jumper going down, memories of white snow being replaced by red blood, and the absolute need to make it to the gate. He remembered finding the cave when his leg broke through the branches that were covering it, remembered looking down and thinking it would be a good idea to get out the storm for a little bit. The next thing he knew Rodney was there and his first thought had been, "Shit, Rodney died and so did I." His second thought had been, "Shouldn’t it be warmer than this in hell?" But the longer McKay talked to him, the clearer things became and he finally gave in to the idea that maybe they’d all get out of this alive after all.

John turned back to his sleeping bag . When he reached it, he placed a few more logs on the fire before pulling McKay’s coat up to cover the physicist’s shoulders. Rodney flinched awake at the touch, blinking in drowsy surprise when he saw John squatting beside him.

"Hey. What’s wrong? You all right?"

"Yeah, I’m fine." Looking back at the sleeping bag, Sheppard hitched his head toward the wall. "Come on." Because the fact was, if it hadn’t been for Rodney, he doubted he would have been fine at all.

"What?" McKay whispered in confusion but John just snatched his coat from Rodney’s legs before grabbing the sleeping bag and heading toward the wall to sit down.

"No use having you freeze to death after saving me from that fate." Putting his coat down on the ground, John sat on it and patted the floor of the cave beside him. "Like you said; you save me, I save you…."

"What comes around goes around?" Taking his own coat, Rodney crawled the short distance to place it as a ground cloth before crawling under the sleeping bag and leaning back against the wall.

"Pretty much," John agreed around a yawn. "I guess my bad karma is catching up with me if I’m stuck sleeping with you, McKay."

"Yeah, that’s what they all say," Rodney mumbled drolly, wriggling in under the covers with a slight shiver and closing his eyes. "It’s kind of like those snow days you were reminiscing about. Sure you get a day off in the dead of winter, but then you just have to make up the missed day in summer. You always end up paying in the end."

"If that’s the case, I’m starting to think our entire time on Atlantis has been one long series of snow days."

He’d had the time of his life since walking through the gate. Where else could he shoot a man, throw him off a balcony, and laugh about it afterward with the victim? Where else would the victim suggest doing it in the first place? It was the only place he could think of where he could get his ass kicked on a regular basis by a woman wearing a leather tank top and slit skirt and not have to pay for it in the back room of a Vegas strip club. And it was the first time he’d had the chance to introduce the guilty pleasure of crushing a beer can on your forehead to someone or watched a grown man’s eyes light up in joy as he watched people being eaten alive by a giant shark. Those were the sorts of things money could never buy but friendship could, the sorts of things that made him think it had been worthwhile to let his guard down and let people in.

But there had been plenty of times he’d wished he hadn’t, selfish times when he’d thought it would have been easier to have kept his distance and not gotten so close, times when he’d berated himself for not learning anything from nearly losing everything for a friend. Those were the times late at night when he’d lain in bed unable to sleep after Ford had run intentionally into a Wraith culling beam, after Carson’s funeral and he’d watched Rodney board an airplane bound for Scotland, after they’d learned Elizabeth really wasn’t coming back. They’d lost so many over the years that John sometimes wondered if it was payback for being so happy since arriving and wouldn’t it be better to just pack up and go back to the relative safety of Earth. But all he had to do was remember how much it had sucked out loud to be back on Earth with Rodney in another state and Teyla and Ronon in another galaxy and his heart beating a little faster every time they dialed the gate back at the SGC in a false hope that this time when the wormhole stabilized and he stepped through the event horizon he’d end up back home on Atlantis once again.

Rodney cracked one eye to look askance at Sheppard. "I didn’t realize getting stuck with me was such a burden for you, Colonel."

"Well, not that it isn’t a burden at times, but I actually consider you more of a winter’s day."

Another eye opened and McKay frowned. "Cold, dismal, and deadly?"

For a genius, Rodney could be incredibly dense. Either that or he was intentionally making this hard for Sheppard. Bobbling his head uncomfortably, John admitted, "I was talking more about the… fun parts."

"Really?" Rodney asked happily.

"Although the cold, dismal, and deadly can be a pretty accurate description, too."

"You just can’t stop while you’re ahead, can you?" McKay closed his eyes again with a shake of his head.

Sheppard did the same with a grin. "Not something I’m known for."

"You’re not known for being quiet, either," Ronon grumbled from across the cave before threatening, "but I’ve seen you do it when your life depends on it."

"Thank you, Ronon."

Rodney’s smug smile dissolved when the Satedan pointed out, "And you can’t even shut up long enough to save your own skin, McKay."

"Perhaps they can learn by example," Teyla suggested dryly without even opening her eyes.

Ronon actually looked a little abashed to be chastised, and John had to fight the twitching at the corners of his mouth.

"What are you smiling about?" Ronon demanded.

John thought about trying to maintain a straight face but quickly decided against it. "Nothing," he told the large warrior innocently. But the honest answer was, "Everything."

The next time he woke, it was because the sun was cutting through their windbreak of branches and causing his already aching head to throb with the brightness. Doing his best to block the light, he sat up a little and squinted. A quick glance around the cave showed Teyla was gone, probably to give Ronon a little privacy, as he was in the process of pulling on his now-dried clothes. The fire had died down and the air in the cave was chilly, but Sheppard had to admit that, if nothing else, all those pudding cups McKay ate not only kept him at his current fighting weight, they also made him pretty toasty to sleep with… beside. To sleep beside. He made a mental note to choose his words carefully for the mission report for this one. Although he was pretty sure Rodney would be willing to back him up in his explanation that it was purely for survival purposes they’d ended up sharing a sleeping bag. That was as long as he stayed on the scientist’s good side. John made another mental note to make sure the man stayed well-stocked with pudge-inducing pudding cups for the next couple of weeks.

The human heater in question shifted causing his head to flop onto Sheppard’s shoulder. John rolled his eyes when Rodney just continued to snore.

Ronon’s lips curled wickedly at the sight. "You two comfy?"

"Tell you what," Sheppard offered, "you never mention last night’s sleeping arrangements and I’ll never mention the Einstein underwear. Deal?"

John watched as the gears turned in Ronon’s head and landed on the conclusion of ‘Oh, shit, I never thought of that’.

"Deal," he readily agreed.

That taken care of, Sheppard set to waking McKay with a bounce of his shoulder before the scientist started drooling on him. "’Morning, Sunshine," he grinned, intentionally deepening his voice. "Was it good for you?"

Blue eyes flew open in disoriented shock and Sheppard decided that expression alone might be worth the scandalous dishonorable discharge a statement like that could earn him if he didn’t have boxer shorts blackmail material to hold over the only other person to hear it. The panic turned to ire when the morning fuzz cleared from Rodney’s head and he saw exactly where he was.

"You wish," McKay snorted, straightening and scrubbing at his face. "Although I seriously doubt I’m your type considering I possess a key element none of your usual bedfellows can claim."

"Yeaaah," John drawled, "that’s pretty much an intentional choice on my part, McKay."

"I was talking about an I.Q. larger than my chest size, Colonel."

"Actually, so was I." The smartass smirk just had McKay shaking his head in wonder.

"How you ever get laid is beyond me."

"So, I take it you don’t still respect me this morning?"

"That would have required me to have respected you last night to begin with." Rodney stood and stretched with a grimace of discomfort which seemed to have more to do with the fact that Ronon had awkwardly offered the boxers back to their owner.

"I’m not taking those back!"

"Why? They’re yours."

John was always struck by how black and white Ronon’s logic could be.

"I know that," Rodney argued, "but you wore them."

"And you wore them before I did, didn’t you?"

"Well, yes…,"

"So, it’s okay for you to give me underwear that you’ve already worn but I can’t give them back to you after I’ve worn them?"

When Rodney looked back at Sheppard for some sort of support, he just shrugged. "He has a point." Because, really, who didn’t enjoy seeing McKay flustered?

"Yes, I wore them before you," Rodney explained impatiently, "but I also laundered them before offering them to you." Stopping to consider what he’d just said, he nodded in self-confirmation. "Yes, I am almost positive that I’m sure they went through the laundry… probably."

With a growl, Ronon shoved the questionable underwear into McKay’s hands and stomped away to gather the rest of his things.

John took that as his cue to get organized himself. He stood and, whoa, that wasn’t such a great idea given the way the room tilted before righting itself. Rodney looked between the wad of cloth in his hands and the Satedan, then back at Sheppard, who just patted him on his shoulder. "Bet you’ll remember to wash them after this."

"Wash, bleach, and possibly burn them," Rodney corrected before studying John closely when he didn’t release his hold on McKay’s shoulder. "Sheppard?"

Teyla had reentered the cave and all three of his teammates were watching him in concern. "It’s nothing; just a little dizzy from the…." He fluttered his hand indiscriminately at his head since the whole thing hurt. In fact, his whole body hurt from that day-after-impact ache that resonated through every joint in his body. "So, how far away is Lorne parked?"

"Two, two-and-half miles tops," Rodney assured and John decided he must really look rough if McKay, of all people, was trying to pass off the distance as no big deal.

"Oh, well, then that’s not so bad." John’s dismissal wasn’t as convincing as he’d thought it would be.

"You should eat," Teyla encouraged.

The room wasn’t the only thing that had rolled when he stood, and the thought of food really didn’t do much for his already protesting stomach.

Before John could protest the idea, Rodney chimed in, "I could eat."

"There’s a shocker," Ronon snorted.

Rodney crossed his arms defensively. "In cold weather, it’s very important to keep your caloric intake high enough to support the energy needs of your body."

"You could energize a ZPM with the amount of calories you eat, McKay."

"Mock me all you want, Ronon, but I understand the importance of proper nutrition. Now where the hell are my coffee packets and Snickers bar?"

Teyla stepped in and suggested an MRE might be a better choice. McKay relented on the candy bar, opting to save it for the trail… all two miles of it… but he finished off all three packets of coffee he had squirreled away. Once they had eaten, John had to admit he did feel a little bit better. Teyla contacted Lorne to let him know they would soon be heading out. John set about trying to find some way to keep his boots secure since McKay had cut the laces off the day before. He managed to tie several of the larger pieces of shoelace together to at least wrap them around the top of the boot and secure it enough to keep the snow out. He’d just about finished the second one when he looked up to see Rodney staring at him.

"What?" John asked in confusion. Glancing back, he saw Teyla and Ronon were watching him with the same odd expression on their faces.

"Nothing, you just don’t usually tie your boots that way," Rodney dismissed.

McKay’s explanation only managed to confuse John more. "It’s not like I have much choice in the matter, Rodney."

"No, no, of course not." The scientist seemed embarrassed by his reaction and quickly turned back to adjusting the straps on his backpack.

That’s when Sheppard noticed something else. "You’re wearing my coat."

"What?" McKay inquired innocently, looking down at John’s lighter weight coat.

Seriously, the guy really did suck at lying. "My coat, Rodney. You’re wearing my coat."

"So I am. My mistake. Oh, well, no use taking off all my gear, just go ahead and wear mine."

"McKay…" John called to the quickly retreating form of the scientist.

"Look, I spent half the day yesterday reenacting March of the Penguins, my spinal alignment feels like it resembles a sine wave, I’ve lost an entire day of work, not to mention a pair of really spiffy underwear, and, in return, I’ve more than likely gained a case of athlete’s foot on my stomach. All because of you, Colonel. So why don’t you cut me some slack, put on the goddamn coat, and get moving so I can go home and see what disaster has befallen Atlantis while I was out saving your frostbitten ass before I stencil ‘now available in the freezer section’ on your office door and leave you here to live out your own personal homage to a Lean Cuisine."

John thought of arguing but when he pulled on Rodney’s coat and stuck his hands in the pocket, he decided to go another route. Zipping up the parka, he lamented. "Lean Cuisine? Please, I’m much hardier than that. Now if you’d said a Hungry Man dinner, I could see that."

Rodney sighed exhaustedly. "Can we just go already?"

Ronon pushed past him out the mouth of the cave. "Why? Can’t wait to have an excuse to eat your Snickers?"

"You’re just jealous you didn’t think to bring your own." When Sheppard joined the disgruntled scientist at the entrance McKay informed John abruptly, "And, no, you can’t have a bite."

John stuck his hand back in the pocket of the coat McKay had tricked him into wearing, wrapping his hand around the sacred treat Rodney had forgotten he’d stashed there. "I wouldn’t dream of asking for one." No good deed went unpunished, as they say. Not that John would actually eat it or anything… not unless McKay really ticked him off in the near future.

Ronon had positioned himself where he could offer Sheppard a hand as they made their way down the slippery rocks. With his head still swimming occasionally, John didn’t complain about the assistance. When they reached the bottom, Rodney set them on the proper course using the life sign detector before falling into step beside John as they trudged through the snow. At least with Ronon in the lead he was able to clear a path making the going a little easier for the others.

But with his team, John didn’t expect anything less. Ronon clearing the way, Teyla watching their backs, Rodney correcting their course, and each of them keeping an eye on Sheppard. After the second time McKay caught him under the elbow to keep John on his feet, the scientist started walking so close Rodney’s feet were becoming more of a tripping hazard than the snow. Sheppard thought of telling him to back off, but decided against it. He really was exhausted from the whole crashing/concussion/nearly freezing/sleeping in a cave experience and the periodic bump of McKay’s shoulder against his kept the encroaching fuzz at bay. Besides, it gave him a front row seat for Rodney’s mild panic attack on the trail when he couldn’t find his candy bar and realized exactly what his stubbornness regarding the coats had earned him.

McKay’s eyes widened as he patted frantically at the pockets of the coat he was wearing, then narrowed when Sheppard asked in his most sincere manner, "Is there a problem, Rodney?"

Rodney seemed to be weighing his options before he finally said, "No, Colonel, no problem at all."

McKay may not have had a problem, but by the time they could see the Jumper through the trees, John was having one. He barely broke a sweat during a two-mile jog. But two miles in the snow after the day he’d had the day before had him leaning into McKay more than walking on his own. Still, when Lorne came out to meet them, he managed to straighten.

"Colonel, it’s good to see you."

"Major," he greeted, noticing Rodney was standing so close behind him that when he swayed, it was his friend’s shoulder keeping him from toppling backward. "Sorry about your little campout last night."

"Don’t worry about it, sir. It reminded me of ice fishing at my grandfather’s up in Minnesota, only with a really cool alien spaceship instead of a drafty shack."

Sheppard blinked, trying to keep his second-in-command in focus. "Well, who says the Pegasus galaxy isn’t without its perks?"

"I do," Rodney countered, giving John a push toward the back of the Jumper. "At least the planets made up of frozen wastelands without any useful technology sure lack them."

Lorne could only nod. "I can’t argue with you there, Doctor."

"Then let’s not waste any more time hanging out on this one."

Lorne took the colonel’s suggestion as an order. "Yes, sir."

Taking a seat in the back of the Jumper with the rest of his team, John leaned his head back wearily against the bulkhead. In a few minutes they’d be home, safe, warm, out of danger… until the next time. There always seemed to be a next time. McKay was right about snow days always coming back to bite you in the ass. But he’d enjoy the fun as long as it lasted. He had a job most men in his position would kill for, a home worth fighting for, friends and coworkers worth dying for, and a surrogate family worth living for… not to mention a Snickers bar in his coat pocket.

Life really didn’t get much better than that.

The End.

FIC: Snow Day- Part 1 (SGA Gen)

2009-06-02T06:05:37Z

Title: Snow Day
Genre: Gen, Team
Characters: Team
Rating: T.
Word count: ~18,400
Warning: None
Spoilers: Anything through season 4... I think. That's the problem with zine fics, too much time passes for you to remember exactly what was going on when you wrote it. *G*
Author Notes: This fic was written for the Brotherhood 5 zine, and I honestly can't remember the names of all the editors, but they were a wonderful bunch to work with. Seriously, all the Brotherhood zines are gorgeous and should be owned by everyone who can get their hands on them. Their website can be found here.
Summary: When Sheppard's Jumper goes down on a planet in the clutches of a blizzard, it's up to his team to find him before it's too late.

Snow Day

by liketheriver

If there was anything Ronon Dex hated, it was having nothing to do.

He’d gotten pretty good at finding ways to occupy his time when he was on the run from the Wraith. You’d think boredom wouldn’t be a problem when you were, running for your life, setting traps, avoiding the ones the Wraith had set for him, but he’d had a remarkable amount of downtime, as well. Typically during those days he’d forage, hunt, and fashion weapons, in essence, prepare for the next onslaught. But sometimes there were weeks between attacks, and even practicing his forms and singing crude songs he’d learned in the barracks wasn’t enough to pass the time. It was then he’d made dice out of stones or playing cards out of bark and played a few rounds of fives and nines or assassin’s attack. He’d learned the members of the Atlantis expedition had a similar game called solitaire, although the Satedan deck had a dozen more cards than the one from Earth and wasn’t played on a computer.

He had a computer in his quarters on Atlantis, something he rarely used for more than checking schedules and citywide notifications, but today he was so bored he was tempted to try out some of the games McKay had showed. He’d had plans to go running with Sheppard in the morning, then participate in some weapons training with some of the marines, followed by sparring with Teyla in the afternoon. But then Stackhouse had fallen down the stairs on the way to the Jumper Bay and twisted his knee and Sheppard had volunteered to fly the mission instead. Then there had been a malfunction in the east wing of the city where the armory and shooting range were located that had resulted in the fire suppression systems randomly activating and the training had been canceled. Carter had gone to help McKay and the scientists with the problem, so Teyla was required to step in and act as her representative at a funeral ceremony for the leader of one of their major trading partners. That left Ronon with an entire day with nothing to do.

Nothing at all.

The one time he had tried to see if Rodney needed some help with… something, he’d been told, "Yes, you can remove some of this dead weight the SGC has seen fit to burden me with." The man’s hands had fluttered irritably to take in most of the scientists working around him. Before Ronon could ask if there was something he could really help with, even if it was just heavy lifting of a more legitimate kind, McKay was already off berating one piece of dead weight personally. The Satedan was just about to try to ask again when McKay was suddenly doused by a frothy foam coating being sprayed from the walls. Zelenka covered his bark of laughter with a cough when Rodney wiped enough of the suds from his face to glare at his coworker. At that point, Ronon had decided that trying to talk to McKay was a futile effort and he might as well return to his room and stare at the ceiling for a while. That had been three hours ago and, even though he hadn’t spent the entire time counting the tiles above his bed, it had occupied a good portion of his time.

Sitting up on his mattress, he eyed the computer again before checking the clock. Teyla should be returning soon, and Sheppard should already be back from the mission. It was just a simple recon of a new world that, from the MALP data, looked to be long abandoned. Maybe he could get a decent workout in before dinnertime with one or both of them… that was, if McKay had managed to get the walls to stop squirting foam every few minutes. Ronon pulled on his boots and decided to stop by control to see if either of his teammates had returned.

Teyla was just walking back through the gate when he confirmed with the gate tech that Sheppard was still offworld.

Rolling her neck exhaustedly, Teyla sighed when she saw him and trudged wearily up the stairs.

"Nice funeral?" he asked with a quirk of his lips.

"The Darringee are an eloquent, albeit long-winded, people. And Alabain was nearly eighty-three cycles old… all of which were eulogized in excruciating detail." With a shift of her bag off her shoulder, she grimaced. "I have been standing for almost six hours."

"So I don’t suppose I could talk you into a stick fight, huh?"

She gave him a sympathetic smile. "I am sorry, Ronon. I wish only to grab a bite to eat, return to my quarters, and soak in a hot bath to hopefully work out the kinks in my back."

"Yeah, well, maybe Sheppard will be up for it when he gets back."

Teyla’s brow furrowed at the proposed compromise. "John has not returned yet? He was due back over an hour ago." When Ronon frowned in return, Teyla asked, "Where is Colonel Carter?"

"They’re still working on the fire suppression system."

Teyla started in the direction Ronon hitched his thumb and he quickly followed her. They met McKay at the turnoff from the residential section as he was heading back toward the east wing of the city, hair wet from what was apparently a recent shower.

"Hey, so how was the party?"

"It was a funeral, Rodney," Teyla reminded him with rolled eyes. "And it was a somber and distinguished occasion."

"Yeah, sorry I missed it," he dismissed absently as he studied his arm before shoving it under Ronon’s nose. "Do you see welts? I swear to God that flame retardant had me breaking out in hives." When his teammate evidently didn’t answer fast enough to suit him, Rodney pulled his arm back and returned to scrutinizing it himself. "I’m going to make sure Sam sends a sample back to the SGC for a full analysis. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s a carcinogen."

"Where is Colonel Carter?" Teyla asked him, not slowing her pace.

"Down by the gym last time I saw her, overseeing the final cleanup." Realizing Teyla wouldn’t be looking for the expedition commander unless it was important, Rodney jogged to catch up and match her pace. "Why? What’s wrong?"

"Sheppard’s overdue," Ronon informed him succinctly.

"What? He’s not back yet?" With a quick glance at his watch, Rodney keyed his radio. "Control, this is McKay. Dial up M3C-945 and try to contact Colonel Sheppard and the rest of the away team."

"I just did.
There was no response."

The three frowns deepened. This time Rodney called Carter. "Sam?"

"I heard," she answered back. "I’m on my way. Chuck, let’s prepare a MALP and ready a team, just in case."

With a quick glance at one another, the three returned to the locker room to gear up. If any team was going to go looking for Sheppard, it was going to be the colonel’s own. Once they were ready, they headed back to Control to see what the MALP had found.

"What is wrong with the picture?" Teyla asked as they leaned in and looked at the feed coming from the MALP. It was nothing but a white screen.

"It’s snow," a disgruntled McKay informed them.

"What? You mean like static?"

"There’s nothing wrong with the feed," Rodney corrected Ronon’s assumption, "I mean real snow." He sent an order to the survey instrument on the other planet and the camera turned, showing the edge of the drift it had been fixed on. The scene now showed a field covered with more blowing drifts edged by trees bending in the high winds that were barely visible in the near white-out conditions.

"I do not understand. The original MALP data did not show such conditions."

Teyla’s observation had Rodney shaking his head. "It must have blown in during the mission. It’s been what? Eight hours? If the blizzard has maintained this same intensity for that long, it could easily have dropped that much snow."

"Maybe they’re just waiting it out," Ronon suggested. "Couldn’t the storm interfere with their coms?"

Carter crossed her arms and straightened. "It is possible that’s the case. But if they’re in trouble, the last thing we want to do is leave them stranded in a snowstorm. Rodney, do you feel comfortable piloting a Jumper in these conditions?"

McKay’s eyes widened as his mouth opened then closed. "I… that is… given the fact that someone should probably concentrate on using the instruments to search for the other Jumper, it would probably be best if someone else flew the ship."

Carter simply nodded before turning and addressing the man standing behind her. "Major Lorne, ready your team. Pack the cold weather survival gear." Turning back to Sheppard’s team, she gave a small reassuring smile. "Just in case."

The three nodded tensely in understanding before looking back at the MALP display when the gate tech called, "Colonel Carter, I think you should see this."

Ronon squinted at the flickers and flashes he saw on the screen. "It looks like lightning."

"That’s exactly what it is," Rodney agreed as they watched the electrical currents dance across the clouds with the occasional bolt hitting the ground in the distance, "It’s not exactly common to have thunder and lightning during snowstorms, but it’s not unheard of either. Although, that’s a pretty intense storm." There was a loud pop and then the entire screen glowed blue-white before going black. "What happened?"

Chuck shook his head as he typed commands to the MALP. "I don’t know. It’s not responding. I think it may have been struck by lightening."

McKay elbowed his way between the tech and his keyboard and tried to fix the problem himself. "He’s right; it’s toast."

"Well, it is sitting right beside the Stargate," Carter pointed out. "If anything is going to attract lightning that would be it."

"Would a Jumper attract it, as well?" Teyla asked in concern.

Rodney’s eyes widened in that way that said he hadn’t thought of that possibility, but now that he had, they were totally screwed. "A direct hit from a bolt of lightning would probably fry the Jumper just like it did the MALP."

Lorne looked between McKay and Carter. "Then is it safe to fly there?"

"We can always wait for the storm to pass." Carter didn’t seem the least bit happy with her own suggestion.

"How long could that take?" asked Teyla.

"Hours," McKay informed them gloomily.

Ronon just started fastening his coat. "Then we go in on foot."

"And what?" Rodney demanded. "You saw the conditions on that planet. Are we supposed to just wander around aimlessly in whiteout conditions? We have no idea where the Jumper even went down, if it did."

"If it did go down, then they can’t wait a couple of hours before we start looking for them," Ronon argued in return.

"I know, I know." McKay rubbed a thumb along his forehead in thought. "Just give me a second to come up with something."

"Would the cloak not protect us?"

Rodney shook his head at Teyla’s suggestion. "No, the cloak just fools sensors and the human eye into thinking the Jumper isn’t there; the metal of the ship would still attract lightning." Snapping his fingers rapidly, McKay brightened. "But if we converted it to a shield like when we go underwater, and I tweaked the polarity a little…"

Without waiting for permission, Rodney started at a jog for the Jumper bay. The others watched him go before turning questioningly back to Carter.

"Well, it looks like Rodney has a plan," she said. "Once he finishes the modifications, you have a go, Major."

Lorne gave a brisk nod. "Yes, Ma’am."

But Ronon and Teyla were already heading toward the Jumper where Rodney was working.

Twenty minutes later, they were through the gate. And as far as Ronon was concerned, that was twenty minutes later than they should have been. But as much as he hated to admit it, McKay had been right. There was no way they could have walked into a storm like this one and expected to stay on their feet, much less find Sheppard. Still, after spending all day waiting around, the extra delay to finally get out there and find their missing friend and the marines had only put Ronon more on edge. Evidently, given Teyla’s anxious tone, he wasn’t the only one.

"Are you picking up any life signs?"

The HUD popped up and McKay scanned it from his copilot’s seat. "Yes, there’s two about five miles to the west, and another one about two miles north of that position."

Ronon scowled at the news. "Only three life signs?"

"Yes," Rodney confirmed with dread.

Four of them who went out in the Jumper. That meant, whatever had happened, someone hadn’t survived. Ronon had no qualms about hoping like hell Sheppard wasn’t the one the expedition had lost. Because as much as he liked the marines he worked with now and again, and was willing to help out anywhere he was needed in his adopted city, Ronon didn’t consider himself a member of the expedition. He was a member of Sheppard’s team, first and foremost, and that’s where his loyalties lay.

It didn’t take long for them to arrive above the location of the two life signs. They found the Jumper, resting at an angle on the remains of the trees where it had obviously gone down hard and out of control. Ronon had been in the Jumper before when it had lost power and crashed. He knew from personal experience that Sheppard wouldn’t have been able to do more than warn the men in his craft to prepare for the impact.

"Colonel Sheppard, this is Lorne, do you copy?"

The lack of response had Ronon’s stomach knotting as Lorne called again.

"Atlantis Jumper, do you read me?" Still no answer and Lorne surveyed the immediate area. "The trees are too thick to set down here. It looks like there’s a clearing up ahead and we’ll have to hike in from there."

Just another delay in reaching the downed Jumper; Lorne took a quick pass over the location of the third life sign. This one was even deeper in the woods and they couldn’t see anything through the thick trees below them. Once again, attempts to raise the man on the radio went unanswered.

"Whoever’s down there, we’re going to have to go after them on foot," Lorne told them before returning to the clearing to land the ship.

He was right. The clearing where they landed was the closest location to both the crashed Jumper and the lone member who had left the site. The crash site was a mile due west of where they set down and the other person was two miles north of that. Further north, the access was blocked by the long ridge of a gray rock cliff face, which just had Ronon wondering where the man thought he was going since it was in the opposite direction of the ‘gate.

Once the back hatch opened, Ronon was the first to step out into the wind and blowing snow, followed soon after by Teyla. He pulled the hood of his winter coat up, the fur framing the opening around his face, adjusted his scarf over the lower half of his face and placed the goggles over his eyes. Teyla braced herself against him when a gust whipped across the open meadow. He’d turned down the Earth-based winter clothing in favor of his own long, fur-lined coat as it had served him well over the years. But he was glad he’d taken the eye protection because the icy pellets were stinging the small amount of exposed skin on his face.

The marines fanned out on either side of him, followed, finally, by McKay.

"Christ," Rodney exclaimed behind the wrapping around his face as he put his head down against the icy blast. "This is insane. How are we even supposed to walk in this?"

Ronon was tempted to tell the scientist to just stay in the Jumper if he really felt that way. But he didn’t. For one, he knew Rodney would refuse. Despite his complaining, Sheppard was missing, and McKay had a way of stepping up and pulling it together when that was the case. For the other, Sheppard wouldn’t have let Rodney sell himself short like that. And Ronon wasn’t about to either. "The trees will block some of the wind."

"Yeah, but we’re not in the trees at the moment," McKay griped, even as he held the life signs detector up to see it through his goggles.

Grabbing a handful of parka, Ronon tugged the man into motion. "Then you better start walking so you can reach them."

The Satedan had been right; the trees did offer some protection from the wind, enough that halfway to the crash site, Ronon noticed something in the white groundcover. Teyla, dressed in the same Earth gear as the rest of the search party, stopped to look over his shoulder where he’d squatted to study the markings.

"Footprints," she yelled to be heard over the wind, her voice muffled by the covering she wore over her own face, which matched the one McKay wore.

Ronon nodded. "They head north, in the direction of the third life sign."

"The wind will cover them with new snow." Teyla was correct, in that they were already fading and there was no telling how fresh they were. "We will lose the trail soon."

Ronon had been thinking the same thing and was considering if they should go after the lone hiker. But why would one of their men head north instead of east where the gate was located? It didn’t make any sense unless they were lost in the storm. And why leave the relative safety of the Jumper to head out into this sort of weather?

Above them there was a flash followed by a deep rumble of thunder. Rodney had joined them and looked up to the sky nervously. "It looks like another storm cell has moved in. We should get to the crashed Jumper and take cover."

"What about him?" Ronon asked in reference to the footprints. His teammates quickly picked up on the unspoken, "What if it’s Sheppard?"

"We’ll be able to track him using the life signs detector," Rodney pointed out as another flash lit the sky.

It was so close Ronon saw spots from the brightness and could smell the ozone.

"Jesus, we need to take cover."

"Rodney is right," Teyla agreed reluctantly when the roar of thunder quieted. "We should continue on to the crash site and wait for the lightning to pass."

When Ronon hesitated, his two teammates stayed beside him, McKay literally bouncing to be moving and Teyla placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Ronon, we will be of little help to him if we are injured during the rescue attempt."

With a growl of frustration, Ronon stood and headed after the marines weaving through the trees to the downed Jumper. The crash became visible through the trees a few minutes later. The ship seemed to be intact, but canted to the side as a result of the remnants of the trees that had been smashed and splintered in its descent. Lorne and his team were already climbing inside the back hatch by the time Ronon, Teyla, and McKay reached it. Ronon made his way through the tangle of twisted branches of one fallen tree, offering a hand to his teammates to pull them up into the Jumper. It was a mess to get through but, on the plus side, it offered enough protection from the elements that the wind died instantly once they were inside; he guessed if you were going to crash, you should do it the way they had, with the wind blowing perpendicular to the opening.

Pushing his goggles up to rest on his forehead, Ronon quickly surveyed the clutter inside the Jumper. Items from the storage bins were scattered across the floor where two of the marines lay, Lorne’s team were already attending to them. Ronon was pretty sure they were Captain Lewis and Sergeant Meyers although he had never worked with the men. The upper half of a third person was covered with the man’s own blood-stained coat, a makeshift death shroud that didn’t conceal the black-clad, lean frame and long legs that had Ronon unable to move from his position at the back of the Jumper.

Teyla softly gasped, "John."

Rodney murmured, "Oh, God," before looking around the ship and focusing on the one marine who was conscious. "Where did Colonel Sheppard go?"

"He didn’t make it back to Atlantis? He went for the ‘gate to get help," the injured man told them, trying to push himself up.

Teyla was still trying to process that the dead body wasn’t their teammate. "How…?" she started to ask before turning her attention back to the body to see what she’d missed that Rodney obviously hadn’t that had let him know it wasn’t Sheppard.

Ronon didn’t even question that much, simply took McKay at his word and clung to it. Not Sheppard. Sheppard was alive. Out in that damn snowstorm, but alive.

"He ties his boots different," McKay dismissed as if it should be obvious to anyone who took the time to look.

And now that Ronon took the time instead of letting the first impression feed his already heightened fears, he saw Rodney was right.

The scientist, however, had already returned to grilling Lewis. "You let him go out in a fucking blizzard by himself?"

"It’s not like I could do much to stop him with a broken leg, Doctor," the man defended. "I tried to talk him out of it, especially considering he’d hit his head pretty hard during the crash, but he insisted. Myers has been in and out since we went down, and Morgan was bleeding… the colonel knew it would be too late for him if we had to wait until we were overdue. Unfortunately, he was right. He died about two hours ago."

"Two hours?" Ronon demanded. "How long has Sheppard been gone?"

"Almost three hours now. When you showed up, I just assumed he’d made it back…."

Ronon was already starting out the back of the Jumper.

Teyla called after him. "Ronon, wait!"

"He’s been out there for three hours with a head injury. How much longer do you think he can wait? You and McKay stay here and help take care of the others if you want, but I’m going after Sheppard."

"We need supplies, sleeping bags and a medical kit at the very least," she reasoned with the Satedan. "Going after him without the things we may need is useless."

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Ronon nodded. "Get them. I’m leaving in two minutes with or without you."

Teyla nodded in return and set to her task.

Ronon pulled the hood of his coat up once again, thinking two minutes was more than he should have allowed. Funny how he’d gone from counting tiles in his ceiling to counting the seconds they were wasting. Considering the alternatives, maybe having nothing to do wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

* * * *

When Teyla started unpacking the gear they had brought with them, Rodney left the marine still babbling his excuses and joined her. "What’s going on?"

"Ronon is going to look for Colonel Sheppard and I am going with him." She pulled two sleeping bags from the kit to leave in the Jumper. "I will leave two for transporting Captain Lewis and Sergeant Myers back to the Jumper..."

"Why are you telling me this?" Rodney asked in confusion. "Tell Major Lorne; I’m going with you guys."

"Rodney, perhaps it would be best if you remained…"

McKay cut his Athosian teammate off with a shake of his head. Was she insane thinking he was going to stay behind? He’d had one terrifying second when they first entered the Jumper, one heart-stopping moment when he saw the body and thought their luck had finally run out and Sheppard was really, truly dead this time. But then he’d seen it, the circling of shoestring around the boot instead of simply tucking the loops into the top, and knew it wasn’t Sheppard. After that, there was no way in hell he wasn’t seeing this through to the end. "Are you planning on following the tracks we saw in the woods? The ones that are probably gone by now? He’s obviously disoriented with the weather and his head injury so there won’t be any logic in where he’s going. If you want to find him fast, you need me and the life signs detector."

"Major Lorne…."

"Isn’t on our team," Rodney reminded bluntly. "Besides he needs to take care of the injured marines, because I’m not going to carry them back through this mess on a stretcher. It’s enough that I’m probably going to have to drag Sheppard’s ass through the woods dodging lightning bolts in the middle of a blizzard."

"Of course," Teyla relented with a small apologetic smile. "Help me pack the gear and we shall go."

They each took a sleeping bag, some food supplies, heating elements for melting snow for water, and a few other items Rodney really wasn’t paying attention to as he pulled his second electronic tablet and cabling, along with the digital video camera, from his pack to make room for the additional supplies.

"Ready?" Ronon called impatiently from the back of the Jumper. It was obvious he was leaving whether they were ready or not.

"We are ready," Teyla assured, standing and walking towards him while she put the last of the gear in her own pack.

Lorne stopped them before they stepped out into the wind. "I can send a couple of my men with you if you want" the major offered.

Teyla just shook her head. "The injured men need medical attention and you will be able to get them back to Atlantis all the sooner and return for us if you can move them both to your Jumper at the same time. That will take all four of your team. We will find Colonel Sheppard and meet you back at the clearing, hopefully by the time you return."

"All right, then. Good luck."

Rodney nodded and pulled his balaclava back into place before putting the goggles over his eyes and preparing himself for the onslaught of wind and snow. At least the latest lightning storm had passed over since they’d been in the crashed ship, but given the intensity of the blizzard itself hadn’t died down, Rodney fully expected another one to move into the area at any time. Ronon was already at the bottom of the pile of wood and branches by the time he and Teyla stepped out into the gale.

"We only have about ninety minutes of daylight left," Rodney informed them, enunciating his words to be heard over the howling wind. "Not that it’s a huge help, but I can only imagine how bad it will be after the sun goes down."

"Then we shouldn’t waste any more of it," Ronon responded, already heading back in the direction of the tracks.

In the distance Rodney heard a loud crack. It took him a second to realize it wasn’t thunder but a tree snapping. Dammit, couldn’t Sheppard make anything easy? He couldn’t need rescuing from a lush, tropical planet with wide, sandy beaches and scantly clad women delivering non-citrus-based mixed drinks, could he? Noooo, of course not. He had to go get himself stranded on Hoth for Christ’s sake. Well, Ronon could be the one who sliced open the wild beast and stuffed Sheppard’s frozen ass inside if it came to that. Friendship had its limits, after all.

Oh, who was he kidding? He’d slice a tantan open with a pair of nail clippers and climb in there with Sheppard if it came down to it. Although he hoped like hell it wouldn’t come down to that.

With a sigh, McKay checked the life signs detector to make sure they were heading in the right direction. The good news was he could still make out the lone blip indicating Sheppard was still alive. The bad news was it hadn’t moved since they’d arrived on the planet and that meant Sheppard was either holed up or hurt or succumbing to the elements. Rodney kind of wished they had gone after the tracks as soon as they found them instead of wasting their time going to the crashed Jumper. Sure they hadn’t known it was a waste of time, but Rodney hated being wrong even if all he had to blame for the mistake was his lack of a crystal ball. One would think, the Ancients would have developed something along those lines. Of course, seeing as they couldn’t even come up with a way to determine the origin of an incoming wormhole, he wasn’t that surprised. Hell, they’d had the concept of caller I.D. back on Earth for a couple of decades.

Coming out of his internal bitch session long enough to check their progress, Rodney saw Ronon survey the ground before heading off in an easterly direction. "He’s this way!" he yelled to catch the large man’s attention, pointing north.

"The tracks go this way," the Satedan yelled back in mid-stride.

In that position, with the fur of his coat around his face and his beard white with snow, Rodney couldn’t help but have a flash of the unfocused photos of Big Foot that had made the rounds back in the 1970s. Keeping that thought to himself, McKay shook his head.

"He’s been roaming aimlessly…." Rodney spun his finger in the air before applying the same motion to the side of his head. "Obviously disoriented. The quickest way to him is straight ahead." The finger moved to jab to the north where Sheppard’s life sign was blinking.

"He started north then circled back." Ronon pointed to the quickly fading marks in the snow.

Rodney supposed that, yes, they did appear to show what his teammate suggested. But the fact remained; Sheppard was dead… er, straight ahead of them about half a mile.

"Look, do you want to follow his meandering path or get to him as soon as possible? Because he isn’t moving. And I don’t know about you, but I’m about to turn into a human popsicle after twenty minutes of hiking in this frozen hell, so I can only imagine what shape he’s in."

McKay watched as Ronon battled between his desire to reach Sheppard as quickly as they could and his need for something tangible to use to track him. Without the boot prints, he was going to be relying completely on Rodney to lead them in the right direction. But it didn’t take long for the Satedan to make up his mind.

"Lead the way."

Rodney followed the path of Ronon’s arm indicating the scientist should take point, and McKay set out making a path for them to follow through the deepening snow. Even with the branches to provide cover, it was already up over his ankles and now that he was clearing the way for the others, not to mention the never-ending wind, it was becoming harder to walk. Rodney despised snow, hated it with a passion that went back to his childhood in the frozen north, hated the memories of frigid nights in a tiny apartment in Siberia where the heat only worked a few days a week if he was lucky, had even hated the subfreezing temperatures of Antarctica, regardless of the fact that he was working in a goddamn Ancient outpost. Sheppard had liked Antarctica, found the desolate landscape soothing, the stinging bite of the frozen air refreshing, the never-ending glaciers relaxing.

Freak.

Sure, maybe it was the trauma associated with the deserts of Afghanistan, the tumbleweeds rolling across the sun-baked asphalt at Kirkland while the Air Force decided the severity of his punishment before skipping the court-martial and settling on McMurdo, but eventually the novelty should have worn off. Maybe after today it had. Rodney knew this experience had just deepened his hate for the white flakes collecting in a deepening pile around his feet. And if Sheppard had one iota of sense left in his no doubt frostbitten brain, he’d come to the same conclusion. Rodney planned to ask him just that, right after he asked him what the fuck he had been thinking heading out into a whiteout with a goddamn concussion.

Sheppard’s tracks eventually veered off from the path Rodney was blazing through the snow and he couldn’t help his own urge to stick with them. He knew he was doing the right thing following the device in his hand, but he couldn’t help but wonder what Sheppard was thinking as he meandered through the trees. Did he know he was lost or did he think he was still on course to the ‘gate? Did he know he was overdue, know that his team would be looking for him, know it was just a matter of time before they found him? Maybe that’s why he was sitting still. Maybe he had seen them on his own life signs detector and was just waiting. But if that was the case, why wasn’t he making his way back to meet them and the warmth of the Jumper? Because, surely he was freezing out here in this weather. That thought had Rodney’s stomach flipping because if hypothermia was setting in, Sheppard could be feeling just the opposite, and that… that would be really, really bad.

But that worry quickly disappeared when he heard a crack behind him and Ronon was suddenly swallowed up by the ground.

"Ronon!" Teyla screamed about the same time Rodney exclaimed, "Holy shit!" and dove for the newly opened hole. The Satedan had managed to grab the edge of the fissure, his feet dangling in the darkness below him. Rodney grabbed his arm, unaware he’d dropped the life signs detector until he heard it clatter against the edges of the opening and finally land with a splash.

Rodney decided it was probably a cave with an underground river running through it. Considering the limestone cliffs they’d seen and the dark areas he’d assumed were caves, he wasn’t surprised. Whether Ronon had just managed to step on a weak spot over the sinkhole or the snow and ice had bound the brambles covering it, he didn’t know, nor did he really care. Right now he just needed to make sure he wasn’t going to have to medically evacuate two teammates instead of one. Pulling with everything he had, he started to worry that wasn’t going to be the case. Ronon didn’t budge.

"Christ, a little help here would be nice."

Teyla had moved around the opening and dropped to her knees to help, but Ronon shook his head. "Let go of me, McKay."

"Now is not the time to go Sheppard on us, Ronon. I’m really not in the mood for more self-sacrificing today."

"We need the life signs detector if we’re going to find him," Ronon reasoned.

Rodney refused to release the arm and Teyla took the other one. "And how is falling to your death going to help get it back?"

"It’s only about a ten foot drop, twenty at the most. I’ll get it and you can throw a rope down to me."

"How can you be sure?" Rodney demanded with a groan as he pulled harder on the arm in his hands.

Teyla pulled the flashlight from her vest. "He is right, Rodney, the fall is not that far. But you would most likely land in the water," she warned their teammate. "This is not the weather to be caught in wet clothing."

"I’ll be fine," he assured, "now let go."

"Are you crazy?" Rodney demanded.

Ronon just grinned. "Maybe a little." Releasing his hold on the edge of the opening, he easily slipped from Rodney’s and Teyla’s grasp and dropped to the floor below with a loud splash.

Rodney did his best to bite off the annoyed, "Fuck!" as Teyla directed her light down into the pit.

"Ronon," she called, "are you all right?"

He looked up from where he sat up to his waist in what had to be icy water and waved. "Shine the light over here," he yelled back. Teyla handed the light to Rodney who did as Ronon requested and, within a couple of minutes, Ronon had located the life signs detector.

"Now will you come back up?"

Ronon only grinned up at Teyla’s impatient tone. "Where’s the rope?"

The rope she had secured to a nearby tree dropped to land in front of the Satedan and he started to climb up with Teyla’s and Rodney’s help. The lightning started again before he was even halfway up and Rodney flinched away from the flash.

"Okay." Ronon shuddered as he handed over the life signs detector. "Let’s go get him."

Teyla shook her head at his eagerness. "Ronon, you must get dry."

It didn’t take long for the harsh winds to prove Teyla correct. Of course, Ronon still tried to deny it. "I’m…f..fine."

"You’re dead if you don’t warm up," Rodney argued, taking in the ice already forming on the soaked leather clothing. "There were caves…."

"In the cliff," Teyla acknowledged with an understanding nod toward the ridgeline that should lay less than a quarter mile through the trees. "You will be able to locate us with the detector once you have found John?"

"Yes, yes," Rodney answered impatiently. "Just try to find some cover from the wind and see if you can start a fire. We’ll join you soon."

"I said… I’m… f..f..fine." Ronon was shivering violently at that point.

"Don’t be even more of an idiot than you’ve already proven yourself to be by going swimming in the first place. Go with Teyla." When Ronon started to protest again, Rodney cut him off. "You know we’re right and the more time you spend standing there freezing to death before our eyes, the more time Sheppard spends out in this mess." Another bolt of lightning lit the sky to accentuate his point.

Wrapping his arms around himself to try to conserve heat, Ronon finally nodded briskly in defeat. "D..don’t… ssscrew… this up… M..McKay."

"Says the human ice cube," Rodney grumbled before turning to leave.

"Be safe, Rodney," Teyla called after him.

"You, too," he yelled back over his shoulder, hunching his shoulders against another blast of cold wind. He watched his two teammates as they started toward the caves, doing his best to convince himself that Teyla knew what she was doing and could take care of Ronon and that he, himself, knew what he was doing so he could find Sheppard. Checking the life signs detector once again, he was now tracking three blips– one that still sat in the same location straight ahead and two heading toward the cliffs. He should reach Sheppard about the time Teyla and Ronon found the caves, if all went well. A flash of lightning and a loud roar of thunder did nothing to convince him that would be the case.

A while later, Teyla hailed him through his radio. "Rodney, we have found a cave, about a third of the way up the cliff. The path up is slick but the rocks form a stair step for an easy climb."

Already? He hadn’t even found Sheppard yet, but checking his watch he saw it had been about twenty minutes since they’d separated.

"Copy that," he scanned the area around him. According to the device in his hand, Sheppard should be here, somewhere. "How’s Ronon?"

"Stubborn," Teyla exhaled in obvious frustration. "But alive. Have you found John?" she asked hopefully.

"No, and according to the detector, I should be practically standing on top of him." Rodney squinted hard, as if that would help him see through the blowing snow and darkening landscape. They’d eaten up what little daylight they had and Rodney had no doubt the temperature would fall even more as the light continued to diminish.

"Rodney, you do not think that perhaps he fell into a hole, as well?"

"Shit, I hadn’t thought of that." Changing his search to include the ground, he saw a dark edge off to his left. He dropped to his hands and knees, crawling to the perimeter of what he now saw was obviously an opening, hoping, he wouldn’t fall in himself. "Sheppard?" He shined the light down into the cave and saw it wasn’t nearly as deep as the one Ronon had fallen into. In fact, he doubted Sheppard would have been able to stand straight without bumping his head. Moving the beam of light to take in more of the sinkhole, he stopped when he saw a black boot. "John!" There was no response but the detector said he was still alive. Keying his radio, Rodney told Teyla, "I’ve found him. You were right; he’s in a hole and he won’t answer me. I think he might be unconscious. I’m going down after him."

Rodney tied his rope to a tree and threw the rest of the line into the hole. It was a short drop to the floor of the cave, but the change inside was instantaneous. Just being out of the wind raised the temperature a good twenty degrees or more so that it felt closer to freezing than to the subzero wind chill they had been hiking in for the past couple of hours. And fortunately, this cave didn’t have water flowing in it beyond a small trickle. Sheppard was sitting with his back against the wall, head tilted to the side as if he’d just fallen asleep.

"Sheppard?" Rodney tried again, bending over to keep from bumping his head on the low roof. When he reached his friend, McKay knelt beside him and removed his gloves to reach into the hood of Sheppard’s coat to check for a pulse. The touch had the injured man flinching awake and Rodney exhaling in relief. "Easy, John, it’s me."

Sheppard seemed to be having trouble focusing. "McKay?" He practically slurred the name as he looked around in confusion.

"Yeah, it’s me. I’m going to get you out of here, okay?" Using the small flashlight, Rodney looked him over. He had a lump on his forehead with the remnants of dried blood from where he must have hit it during the crash, and a cut on his jaw, but otherwise looked to be in one piece. He’d also had the wherewithal to pull his arms inside his coat to conserve a little more body heat.

Hazel eyes studied Rodney closely and John’s forehead creased. "You’re not hurt?"

Rodney rolled his eyes even as he helped the baffled man work his arms back into the sleeves of his coat. "What is it with you people? I grew up in Canada; I can handle a little snow. You all seem to think I’m going to…"

"You were bleeding." Sheppard’s statement had McKay falling silent. "The crash… you were bleeding."

"John, I wasn’t in the Jumper when it crashed," Rodney reminded in gentle concern, pulling his canteen from inside his coat and pushing it into Sheppard’s hand. "You filled in for Stackhouse on the mission today. Remember?"

It took Sheppard a few seconds before he shook his head with a slightly embarrassed wince. "That’s right. It was… Morgan. He was sitting in your seat. Not you; Morgan. Right?"

Rodney hadn’t paid that much attention to where the other team had been sitting, but he had a feeling Sheppard was correct, which went a long way in explaining why he’d gone for the gate with limited gear in a blizzard. Not that the colonel wouldn’t risk his life for just about anyone on Atlantis, but where his team was involved, he could get a little… reckless. And if his head injury had him confused about exactly who was in the crashed Jumper with him, nothing would have stopped him from going for help.

Tapping the canteen in John’s hand, Rodney shook his own head. "Don’t worry about it, Sheppard. Right now we just need to get you out of here and back to the cave Teyla and Ronon have found so we can warm you up." Even down here out of the wind, John’s skin hadn’t felt as warm as it should have. He was going hypothermic and Rodney needed to get him someplace to raise his body temperature.

After finally drinking from the canteen, Sheppard told him, "I can’t feel my feet." He gave a small, groggy laugh at the news as his eyes started to drift shut again and the canteen began to slip from his hand. "I just wanted to take a little break… get out of the wind… for a minute."

"No, no, no," McKay ordered, fisting Sheppard’s coat and giving a shake. "No falling asleep. Come on, time to get moving, Colonel."

Sheppard blinked his eyes open and let Rodney pull him to his feet. Throwing Sheppard’s arm over his shoulder, Rodney took most of his weight. Looking up at the opening, McKay weighed their options, coming to the conclusion he’d probably have a better chance of climbing out of the hole using the rope than Sheppard would… maybe. And not by much.

"Okay, Sheppard, up you go." Rodney pulled John’s hood back up over his head and snapped his coat under his chin before looking around and locating the colonel’s second glove. When the team Sheppard had led to this planet had flown through the gate, they hadn’t been expecting a snowstorm. Winter coats and gloves over standard uniforms were all they had come with. Rodney didn’t want to think what would have happened if Sheppard hadn’t found or accidentally fallen in the cave. Instead of lingering on that horrible thought, he linked his fingers to make a lift for Sheppard.

Sheppard looked between Rodney’s hands and the rope. "I’ve got it, Rodney." But when he tried twice and still couldn’t grasp the rope, he finally gave in and put his boot in the step McKay had made.

Rodney pushed up with an oomph. "Christ, how can you weigh so much and be so skinny?"

"It’s a paradox, like you rescuing me." John grunted as he pulled himself up and Rodney pushed from below.

"Hey, this is what we do; you save me, I save you." Rodney took the rope and attempted to pull himself up… and didn’t move. Come on, McKay, you can do this, he told himself, doing his best to block the flashbacks to junior high phys ed. The wall was too far away to use for leverage, so he gripped higher up the rope and pulled again… and actually moved up a fraction of an inch. He smiled smugly. "That’s more like it." But then he moved up a little further with another jerky motion and he realized he wasn’t climbing; he was being pulled up. Once Rodney had his elbows on the edge, Sheppard dropped the rope and started hauling him up by grabbing his arm and coat.

Rodney wiggled out on his belly, clawing into the snow for purchase. Once he was more out of the hole than in, Sheppard fell back panting in the snow. "So… I guess… we’re back… to your turn… to save me… again."

McKay climbed to his feet and offered a hand. "That’s the plan."

John took it, heaved himself up, and gladly leaned against Rodney when the scientist again slung Sheppard’s arm around his shoulder. "We have to send help… for the marines."

They staggered against a blast of wind as Rodney checked the life signs detector as he told him, "Lorne’s taking them back to Atlantis. You don’t need to worry about them anymore." Handing the detector to Sheppard, McKay keyed his radio. "Teyla, I’ve got him. We’re heading your way now."

"That is wonderful news, Rodney. How is he?"

"Alive, standing, walking…." John’s knees wobbled and he almost went down, which had Rodney tightening his grip and amending, "…sort of. We should reach you in about ten or fifteen minutes."

"Where’re Teyla and Ronon?" Sheppard’s staggering nearly took them down again.

Rodney started to think he might have misjudged how long it would take to reach the others. "In a cave up ahead. Ronon got wet and needed to dry out so I sent them on and came looking for you."

"By yourself?" Sheppard’s tone was more angry than surprised. "You’ve been walking around in this weather by yourself?"

"You’re kidding, right? I wasn’t the one who went all Sir Edmund Hillary and thought I could take on the wilds of winter with little more than a windbreaker and shining optimism to help find the damn gate."

"Hey, Hillary made it to the top of Everest didn’t he?"

"He wouldn’t have without Tenzig Norgay," Rodney countered.

"Well, then, now that my sherpa is here, I shouldn’t have any problems, either."

"Don’t get any ideas, Sheppard. I’m not carrying your frozen ass anywhere." McKay knew that wasn’t the case, but he was happy as hell it hadn’t come to that.

"I’d rather be Shackleton anyway. None of his men died."

Rodney had been dreading when Sheppard would ask about the condition of the men he’d left in the Jumper. "Yeah, that was impressive," he agreed quietly.

Ends up, John could read the outcome in Rodney’s voice. "Morgan didn’t make it."

"Even if you’d made it back to Atlantis, I doubt he would have."

"The other two?"

"Alive when we left them with Lorne and his team. I think they have a really good chance of making it out okay."

John simply nodded and fell silent for most of the rest of the walk. When he did start speaking again, it was in a low mumble more, to himself than Rodney. "Gate… ‘tlantis… need medical team… team… needs help."

"Sheppard, we’re almost there. Just a little further." At least he hoped that was the case.

Lorne called to them across the radio reporting he’d returned to the clearing and Teyla answered before Rodney could. "It would be unwise for Ronon to travel through this weather in wet clothes. We have a fire going to dry them now."

"Teyla’s right," Rodney agreed. "And we’re closer to her than the Jumper and we need to get Sheppard warmed up."

"Copy that, Dr. McKay. We’ll stand by at our current location until you arrive. Lorne out."

Looking up, Rodney could just make out the flicker of the fire Teyla had started. Giving Sheppard a little shake in an attempt to draw him out of his stupor, Rodney coaxed, "See, Teyla and Ronon left the light on for us… up an incredibly steep, ice-covered slope."

"Teyla and Ronon?" Sheppard looked up at that. "Did the medics find them?"

Rodney started to explain, yet again, that the only injured person on their team was Sheppard, then changed his mind. "Just see for yourself."

Teyla must have been watching for them because she met them halfway down the slope. "John, thank the Ancestors, you are alive."

Sheppard smiled at his Athosian teammate with the same look of relief she wore as she took his other arm and helped him up the next rocky ledge creating the trail up to the cave. Between the two of them, Teyla and Rodney were able to get their disoriented team leader up to the entrance of the cave. Teyla moved the windbreak of large branches she’d placed in front of the opening and Rodney could instantly feel the heat from the small fire she had built in the center of the cave. The natural room wasn’t large, but at least they could easily stand without bashing their heads and there was room for all of them to fit and even for a person to lie down, which was exactly what McKay planned to have Sheppard do, on the sleeping bag spread beside the fire.

As soon as they stepped inside, Ronon stood from where he’d been huddled by the fire, setting aside the cup he held in his hands. His grin of relief at seeing Sheppard turned to a frown of irritation when Teyla chastised, "Ronon, for the last time, take off those wet clothes this instant. I will not tell you again."

"Good," Ronon grumped in return, "I’m getting tired of repeating myself every time I tell you no."

Teyla moved in close to the Satedan and narrowed her eyes as she spoke low and dangerous. "Do it now, or I will have no choice but to undress you like the small child you are behaving as."

Sheppard blinked between the two Pegasus natives who were staring each other down, before turning to look at the man still supporting him. "Did I miss something? I must have missed something."

"You aren’t the only one," Rodney told him, torn between shock and amusement and a little curiosity to see if Teyla really would undress the much larger man.

When Rodney had woken up that morning, he’d thought maybe he’d spend the day in the lab working on the drift factors for the new Jumper alignments, eat some lunch, challenge Radek’s latest ideas on trying to harness the solar flare energy from the new planet’s sun as a backup in case the ZedPM went down, and maybe play computer games with Sheppard before the two of them joined their team for dinner. Instead he’d been doused with what was no doubt deadly fire retardant until he looked like a snowman only to shower it off and immediately come to a planet to wander around in a blizzard looking for his friend until he felt like Frosty himself. But even with those unexpected turns of events, he never expected to see Teyla threatening to rip Ronon’s clothes off in a cave by firelight… at least not in front of him and Sheppard, anyway.

He sure wished he’d left that video camera in his pack after all.

* * * *

Part 2.

It does my geeky mother's heart proud...

2009-06-02T05:39:11Z

We're in the last week of school for my kids and my nine-year-old son brought home a large stack of school work today in his backpack. I went weeding through it to see if there was anything mixed in among the various quizes and class work (like the awards assembly invite that was buried in the middle of the stack) when I came across an assignment they had done in class on compound words. His choice just put a huge smile on my face...

This one's going up on my wall at work. *G*

FIC: Cairns (SGA Gen)

2009-05-24T00:22:38Z

The sga_genficathon had the author reveal today, so I can post this here so that you can find it if you happened to miss it over at the ficathon. I'm hoping people will go back and try the other paths on this fic even if they do make it safely to the end. Depending on the path you take, the story can change. Oh, and I didn't get to give my thanks to my betas... Koschka and kodiak_bear .

Title: Cairns written for the sga_genficathon
Genre: Team
Prompt: Stone circles or cairns
Word Count: ~45,000 written but it could be as little as a couple thousand to a couple hundred thousand depending on how many ways you read it.
Rating: T
Warnings: There is the potential for character death, but don't worry, you can always start over and try again if it happens. Also, images that may be slow to download on dialup.
Summary: Forced into a native rite of passage, the team must each face life and death challenges along their chosen path. The only catch is that it's up to you to choose that path for them.
Notes: This fic is a Choose Your Own Adventure story. If you aren't familiar with those, it means you will be given choices at various points, including which character you will follow, the direction they go, etc. Simply click on the persented option you choose and the story will continue based on that choice. The choices could lead to safety or even more dire situations, it could bring team members together, or even a death. Don't panic, though. If you do make a bad decision, you'll be given the choice to start over at the end of each section. And when you finish following one character, you can go back and follow another, or the same character with different choices... the story may even change if you do. Because of the many, many links involved with this fic, and the anonimity required for the ficathon, the entire story is posted on a secret LJ all of its own. This includes the comments. But if you want to scan the comments before reading the fic, you can do so here.

Cairns

Iz Totally Bummed...

2009-05-16T05:34:49Z

So, Robyn and I have our 4 day passes for Comicon, which was remarkably easy for us this year since she got a professional membership last year (and I was her guest) and it was automatically renewed this year. Basically, all she had to do was reply that yes she wanted to attend as a professional with her cheap ass friend, and boom! we're in. Unfortunately, I had two other friends that I wanted to bring with us this year.... my best friend from high school and another friend from work. I kept telling them they needed to buy their 4 days passes, but as long as they bought them by March, they should be good to go.

Well, they waited for one reason or another, but did go to buy them in March and the 4 day passes were sold out because Saturday was sold out. As one will be traveling cross country, not having tix for one day made the trip questionable. After several options including volunteering for Saturday were discussed, my friend from high school decided to apply for a professional membership. She has worked as the producer on a couple of independent horror/scifi movies and about to start on another and given the guidelines, it seemed like she had a pretty good shot at it. Plus, she would get to bring a friend for free which meant both of them would save $75. Well, she just found out that her application was rejected because they had over 10,000 new aps for professional memberships and they had to limit those to people who were directly tied to the comic industry. Since her movies were horror/sci fi, it was a no go.

Finally we decided they would buy Thursday, Friday, and Sunday tickets and we'd do something about Saturday (swap out the badges during the day to give everyone a chance or something). But now, because Comicon took months to get back to let her know her application was rejected, Friday is also sold out and there are no more volunteer positions. GRRRRRR. Now, Robyn and I will have a great time just the two of us like we have the past two years, but we were all really looking forward to having a geeky girls weekend and introducing two newbies to the joys of Comicon. That it pretty much shot to hell and I'm totally bummed about the whole thing. Sigh. And I'm definitely having a hind sight is 20/20 moment on what we should have done about buying tickets and then requesting a refund if they had swung the professional membership. I guess next year we'll know to buy the tix super early.

Beyond Atlantis Virtual Season Six is now live!

2009-05-08T03:14:52Z

The website can be found here.... Beyond Atlantis

This is a gen season and new eps will be posted on the 7th of each month! (I'm slated for episode 3 and have been busily working on it and lots of other great writers, artists, and betas are involved, too.)