Prompt: Stargate: SG-1, Jack O'Neill/Daniel Jackson, Summer at Cheyenne means water gun fights when the brass aren't looking.
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/714439.html?thread=94376135#t94376135
Jack at his most commanding is ridiculously hot. It's why Daniel can never take him too seriously, because then he'll get distracted in the field. Trading sarcastic barbs is work mode. Jack being all military and bossy? That's sexytimes mode. So Daniel is pretty pleased with himself for keeping a straight face while Jack paces along the line of new recruits, who have formed single file on the grass at the top of the Mountain, at attention.
"This exercise," Jack says, "is designed to instill you with skills that are vital to your continued survival in the Stargate program. I expect you to act with bravery, diligence, and most of all, professionalism. Teal'c, show these marines their fine weapons."
Teal'c, also with an impeccable straight face (that's not difficult for him), holds up a neon orange plastic water pistol. "This is your weapon. Load it like so. Aim it like so. Fire it like so."
Jaws drop.
Jack glares at the marines, and they quickly close their mouths.
"If you are hit in the head, you are dead. If you are hit in any vital organ, you are dead. If you are hit in a limb, that limb is useless to you. There are no reloads. There are no time-outs. There are no take-backs. Now, get out there and rescue our archaeologist."
Daniel waves, then presents his wrists to Teal'c so he can be bound - and he does notice the gleam in Jack's eye when Teal'c snaps the cuffs on - and then follows Teal'c as Teal'c guides him to the "jail" demarcated by a square of white stones. Teal'c has a super soaker.
Jack strides off to the sidelines and tells the marines they have five minutes to formulate their strategy, and then the battle is on.
General Hammond thinks Daniel has taken the marines to Kate Heightmeyer for a lecture on self-care and the psychological stress of being on a gate team.
Daniel doesn't like shrinks, and Jack prefers a little show, don't tell. These kids need to loosen up and laugh, because if they can't, they won't survive the program for long.
"Aaaaand go!" Jack blows on a whistle.
The marines fan out and open fire.
Teal'c's super soaker is full of jello.
The first marine hit looks confused, the second horrified.
And the third, the third laughs.
And Daniel thinks these kids might actually do all right.
Wednesday, April 27, 2016
Tuesday, April 26, 2016
No. 49
Prompt:Atlantis, John Sheppard/Rodney McKay (+/Elizabeth Weir), Part of John's ATA expression is the ability to step back and forth through time, but after the disaster that was trying to save his mother's life, he won't use it. Until Rodney and/or Elizabeth are in danger/killed.
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/714210.html?thread=94336738#t94336738
Going back too many times, going back too far - that was dangerous. John didn’t realize he had the ATA gene till he sat down in that chair in Antarctica. And he didn’t realize he had the ability to step through time until he landed in Atlantis. Naturally, the first thing he tried was to save his mother.
It never worked. It never worked. The futures he caused with each attempt were disastrous as well, and he ended having to combat time-traveling versions of himself to stop them from creating a terrible future, a future where the Ori and the Goa’uld took over the Earth because O’Neill was killed and no one else could operate the chair well enough. A John whose mother lived was a John who never joined the Air Force. He watched his mother die over and over and over again, and he couldn’t take it anymore, so he stopped trying.
He never thought he’d have to watch Rodney die.
He didn’t even think about it. He didn’t have to step back far, because seconds before Rodney had been live and kicking, running, telling John to look out, get down.
John stepped back in time, and he stepped behind Rodney, into the path of the Wraith blast, and he went down hard, taking Rodney with him, but then Teyla and Lorne were there, laying down cover fire while Teldy grabbed Rodney and Ronon grabbed John, and when his world went black, he at least know Rodney was safe and alive. He refused to watch Rodney die ever again.
And then he woke up in the base infirmary, and Rodney was lying on the cot beside him, and Rodney didn’t remember him. Didn’t remember anyone. And the first person he smiled at was Jennifer Keller.
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/714210.html?thread=94336738#t94336738
Going back too many times, going back too far - that was dangerous. John didn’t realize he had the ATA gene till he sat down in that chair in Antarctica. And he didn’t realize he had the ability to step through time until he landed in Atlantis. Naturally, the first thing he tried was to save his mother.
It never worked. It never worked. The futures he caused with each attempt were disastrous as well, and he ended having to combat time-traveling versions of himself to stop them from creating a terrible future, a future where the Ori and the Goa’uld took over the Earth because O’Neill was killed and no one else could operate the chair well enough. A John whose mother lived was a John who never joined the Air Force. He watched his mother die over and over and over again, and he couldn’t take it anymore, so he stopped trying.
He never thought he’d have to watch Rodney die.
He didn’t even think about it. He didn’t have to step back far, because seconds before Rodney had been live and kicking, running, telling John to look out, get down.
John stepped back in time, and he stepped behind Rodney, into the path of the Wraith blast, and he went down hard, taking Rodney with him, but then Teyla and Lorne were there, laying down cover fire while Teldy grabbed Rodney and Ronon grabbed John, and when his world went black, he at least know Rodney was safe and alive. He refused to watch Rodney die ever again.
And then he woke up in the base infirmary, and Rodney was lying on the cot beside him, and Rodney didn’t remember him. Didn’t remember anyone. And the first person he smiled at was Jennifer Keller.
Saturday, April 23, 2016
No. 48
Prompt:Any (except SPN), any, singing this aria in a really inappropriate moment
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/713271.html?thread=94250551#t94250551
"Just let us speak to our people!" Daniel protested.
The guard banged on the cell door. "Shut up, or we'll make you!"
Daniel threw up his hands in frustration. "If we can't tell our leaders what you want, they won't be able to give it to you. You already admitted you don't know how to work the Chappa'ai -"
"I sad shut up!"
Teal'c sat down in the corner and closed his eyes, prepared to Kelnoreem.
Sam sat down beside him, adding another mark to her mental tally of offworld imprisonments.
"Oh, fer cryin' out loud," Jack said. He cleared his throat, lifted his chin, and began to sing. Figaro's aria, from the Barber of Seville.
There was more banging at the door. "Shut up!"
"Sir, what are you doing?" Sam hissed.
Jack had a surprisingly good voice, though. Great Italian enunciation. Daniel was impressed.
"For the last time," the guard snarled, but the the other guard said, "Wait. Listen."
Jack had his eyes closed and was singing his heart out. Sam knew that Figaro's aria was one of the most difficult baritone arias to perform (thanks, music survey class freshman year of college), and she knew Jack liked opera, but it had never occurred to her that he could sing it.
The cell door swung open, and one of the guards was clutching his billhook with one white-knuckled hand, but the other looked transfixed.
"Go," the guard said, nudging his companion. "Fetch the town elders. They need to hear this."
"Huhn," Daniel said, ten minutes later, when they were all shuffled into the town square, with the entire population of the settlement staring at them. "That's one way to get out of jail."
Jack began to sing, and the townspeople began to weep tears of joy, and Daniel wondered if it was time to brush up on his piano skills. Sam really wished she'd taken the time to learn to play the cello.
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/713271.html?thread=94250551#t94250551
"Just let us speak to our people!" Daniel protested.
The guard banged on the cell door. "Shut up, or we'll make you!"
Daniel threw up his hands in frustration. "If we can't tell our leaders what you want, they won't be able to give it to you. You already admitted you don't know how to work the Chappa'ai -"
"I sad shut up!"
Teal'c sat down in the corner and closed his eyes, prepared to Kelnoreem.
Sam sat down beside him, adding another mark to her mental tally of offworld imprisonments.
"Oh, fer cryin' out loud," Jack said. He cleared his throat, lifted his chin, and began to sing. Figaro's aria, from the Barber of Seville.
There was more banging at the door. "Shut up!"
"Sir, what are you doing?" Sam hissed.
Jack had a surprisingly good voice, though. Great Italian enunciation. Daniel was impressed.
"For the last time," the guard snarled, but the the other guard said, "Wait. Listen."
Jack had his eyes closed and was singing his heart out. Sam knew that Figaro's aria was one of the most difficult baritone arias to perform (thanks, music survey class freshman year of college), and she knew Jack liked opera, but it had never occurred to her that he could sing it.
The cell door swung open, and one of the guards was clutching his billhook with one white-knuckled hand, but the other looked transfixed.
"Go," the guard said, nudging his companion. "Fetch the town elders. They need to hear this."
"Huhn," Daniel said, ten minutes later, when they were all shuffled into the town square, with the entire population of the settlement staring at them. "That's one way to get out of jail."
Jack began to sing, and the townspeople began to weep tears of joy, and Daniel wondered if it was time to brush up on his piano skills. Sam really wished she'd taken the time to learn to play the cello.
Friday, April 22, 2016
No. 47
Prompt:Stargate Atlantis, Evan Lorne/David Parrish, Traveling through New England's fall and getting to see the changing of the leaves
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/713000.html?thread=94218536#t94218536
Evan guided the car along the road. He didn't mind taking windy back roads. Having grown up in San Francisco, where it was crowded and he always had to make his way on public transport, taking long drives like this was a rare thing, and as far as Evan was concerned, it was the next best thing to flying. New England was beautiful, too. All the colors the leaves turned before they drifted off the trees - Evan wanted to capture every single hue in a single joyful dash of paint on canvas.
But David had told him to drive and keep on driving and not stop, not ever, so Evan was going to keep at it, even if he wanted a chance to pause and just snap a few pictures for reference. David was small in the passenger seat, shoulders hunched, hands white-knuckled where he was twisting them on his lap.
Finally David said, "I'm sorry."
Evan glanced at him. "What for?"
"For my parents. We only get two weeks on Earth, and -"
"You can't have known they'd react like that."
"They were so disappointed I became a botanist instead of a soldier like everyone else. I should have known. When I told them I was coming home with an Air Force Lieutenant Colonel, they were so pleased, so relieved. I - all of my siblings are straight, and all of the grandkids seem straight so far, so I never thought -"
Evan sighed. He pulled the car off to the side of the road, cut the engine. David made a small sound of distress.
"Evan -"
Evan reached across the front seats, put his hand on David's. "You're not your parents. This isn't your fault. I'm not angry about what they said to me. I'm angry at what they said to you. You're their son."
"My family's not like your family -"
"You didn't hear what everyone on the commune said to me when I signed on with the Air Force." Evan bit back the bitterness in his own voice. "No family is perfect. I'm sorry our leave plans got turned on their head. But we still have each other."
"You sure your mom won't mind us just showing up?"
"I'm pretty sure me showing up with a lovely botanist like you might put a dent in the Everest of disappointment I caused my family when I decided to work for The Man," Evan said. "They'll adore you. Just...don't let my sister talk you into getting a tattoo."
David sighed. "I'm sorry. I -"
"Stop apologizing. We're taking a nice drive through a beautiful part of the country I've never seen before. We're back on Earth, and there's no ocean in sight, an there are no Wraith shooting at us. I'm here with you, and I'm happy, okay?"
"Are you sure?" David peeked at him from beneath spiky wet lashes.
Evan paused. "Well, there is one thing that would make me happier."
"What?"
"This." Evan rolled down the windows, fired up the radio to something slow and jazzy, and stepped out of the car. He circled around the front of the car and opened David's door, offered him a hand.
"What are you doing?"
Evan pulled David into his arms and began to sway with him, and around them the beautiful leaves fell, and for the space of a song, everything in the universe was perfect.
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/713000.html?thread=94218536#t94218536
Evan guided the car along the road. He didn't mind taking windy back roads. Having grown up in San Francisco, where it was crowded and he always had to make his way on public transport, taking long drives like this was a rare thing, and as far as Evan was concerned, it was the next best thing to flying. New England was beautiful, too. All the colors the leaves turned before they drifted off the trees - Evan wanted to capture every single hue in a single joyful dash of paint on canvas.
But David had told him to drive and keep on driving and not stop, not ever, so Evan was going to keep at it, even if he wanted a chance to pause and just snap a few pictures for reference. David was small in the passenger seat, shoulders hunched, hands white-knuckled where he was twisting them on his lap.
Finally David said, "I'm sorry."
Evan glanced at him. "What for?"
"For my parents. We only get two weeks on Earth, and -"
"You can't have known they'd react like that."
"They were so disappointed I became a botanist instead of a soldier like everyone else. I should have known. When I told them I was coming home with an Air Force Lieutenant Colonel, they were so pleased, so relieved. I - all of my siblings are straight, and all of the grandkids seem straight so far, so I never thought -"
Evan sighed. He pulled the car off to the side of the road, cut the engine. David made a small sound of distress.
"Evan -"
Evan reached across the front seats, put his hand on David's. "You're not your parents. This isn't your fault. I'm not angry about what they said to me. I'm angry at what they said to you. You're their son."
"My family's not like your family -"
"You didn't hear what everyone on the commune said to me when I signed on with the Air Force." Evan bit back the bitterness in his own voice. "No family is perfect. I'm sorry our leave plans got turned on their head. But we still have each other."
"You sure your mom won't mind us just showing up?"
"I'm pretty sure me showing up with a lovely botanist like you might put a dent in the Everest of disappointment I caused my family when I decided to work for The Man," Evan said. "They'll adore you. Just...don't let my sister talk you into getting a tattoo."
David sighed. "I'm sorry. I -"
"Stop apologizing. We're taking a nice drive through a beautiful part of the country I've never seen before. We're back on Earth, and there's no ocean in sight, an there are no Wraith shooting at us. I'm here with you, and I'm happy, okay?"
"Are you sure?" David peeked at him from beneath spiky wet lashes.
Evan paused. "Well, there is one thing that would make me happier."
"What?"
"This." Evan rolled down the windows, fired up the radio to something slow and jazzy, and stepped out of the car. He circled around the front of the car and opened David's door, offered him a hand.
"What are you doing?"
Evan pulled David into his arms and began to sway with him, and around them the beautiful leaves fell, and for the space of a song, everything in the universe was perfect.
Thursday, April 21, 2016
No. 46
Prompt:Stargate Atlantis, Evan Lorne/David Parrish, Evan accidentally throws out one of David's plants
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/712932.html?thread=94188260#t94188260
Evan was having a good day. He'd gotten up early, gone for a run with his team, cleaned his room. He loved David, but David had a tendency to hoard the weirdest things, including dead plants. Now that Evan had cleared out their not-officially-shared quarters, the place was brighter and cleaner, and Evan was happy.
He was in the middle of staff reviews - he reviewed the enlisted men, left NCOs and commissioned officers to Sheppard - when the door flew open.
"Evan!"
Evan blinked, startled. He and David had agreed to keep it professional outside their quarters, stick to titles and last names. In fact, most of the soldiers didn't even know Evan's first name. It added to his mystique as XO, the super-efficient Major Lorne, no first name, possibly a robot.
"Dr. Parrish," Evan said carefully.
David stomped into the office, almost elbowing poor little Sergeant Winchester in the head.
"You threw it out!"
Evan blinked. "Threw out what?"
"My Williamsonia Sewardiana!"
Dating a botanist didn't make a man good at botany. That babble of Latin was meaningless. "Apologies, Dr. Parrish. Maybe we can step outside and discuss this in private -"
Except David looked ready to cry.
"Sergeant Winchester, dismissed," Evan said.
Winchester ducked out of the room, grinning. Evan filed that away for later and mentally added Winchester to the consequence column.
"You threw it out! How could you?"
"I'm sorry, I don't understand." Evan stepped around his desk, put his hands on David's shoulders.
"The Williamsonia Sewardiana was from the planet where we first had a mission together. I kept it because it was from our first date!"
Evan didn't really count stumbling over a Wraith corpse as a first date, but he knew David was more sentimental than he was. He pulled David into his arms. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "When we go back to the planet for follow-up, we'll get a new one, okay?"
"But it won't be the same," David protested.
"I know. I'm sorry. I thought all of the plants were dead."
"That one wasn't. It just needed a little water. It was hibernating." David sighed and buried his face against Evan's throat.
"I really am sorry. Next time put a label on it?"
"There was a label in the pot."
Evan winced. He really wasn't going to win this discussion. So he switched tactics and pulled David into a kiss.
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/712932.html?thread=94188260#t94188260
Evan was having a good day. He'd gotten up early, gone for a run with his team, cleaned his room. He loved David, but David had a tendency to hoard the weirdest things, including dead plants. Now that Evan had cleared out their not-officially-shared quarters, the place was brighter and cleaner, and Evan was happy.
He was in the middle of staff reviews - he reviewed the enlisted men, left NCOs and commissioned officers to Sheppard - when the door flew open.
"Evan!"
Evan blinked, startled. He and David had agreed to keep it professional outside their quarters, stick to titles and last names. In fact, most of the soldiers didn't even know Evan's first name. It added to his mystique as XO, the super-efficient Major Lorne, no first name, possibly a robot.
"Dr. Parrish," Evan said carefully.
David stomped into the office, almost elbowing poor little Sergeant Winchester in the head.
"You threw it out!"
Evan blinked. "Threw out what?"
"My Williamsonia Sewardiana!"
Dating a botanist didn't make a man good at botany. That babble of Latin was meaningless. "Apologies, Dr. Parrish. Maybe we can step outside and discuss this in private -"
Except David looked ready to cry.
"Sergeant Winchester, dismissed," Evan said.
Winchester ducked out of the room, grinning. Evan filed that away for later and mentally added Winchester to the consequence column.
"You threw it out! How could you?"
"I'm sorry, I don't understand." Evan stepped around his desk, put his hands on David's shoulders.
"The Williamsonia Sewardiana was from the planet where we first had a mission together. I kept it because it was from our first date!"
Evan didn't really count stumbling over a Wraith corpse as a first date, but he knew David was more sentimental than he was. He pulled David into his arms. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "When we go back to the planet for follow-up, we'll get a new one, okay?"
"But it won't be the same," David protested.
"I know. I'm sorry. I thought all of the plants were dead."
"That one wasn't. It just needed a little water. It was hibernating." David sighed and buried his face against Evan's throat.
"I really am sorry. Next time put a label on it?"
"There was a label in the pot."
Evan winced. He really wasn't going to win this discussion. So he switched tactics and pulled David into a kiss.
Wednesday, April 20, 2016
No. 45
Prompt:Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard/Rodney McKay &/or Evan Lorne/David Parrish, The expedition suddenly develops an acute allergy to wearing clothes
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/712513.html?thread=94138177#t94138177
"I'm sorry, Major, could you repeat that?" John glanced at Rodney to make sure he wasn't the only one hearing things.
"There was a gate malfunction, and when we stepped out on the other side, we had no clothes on. All our tac gear, but none of our clothes. So...please send clothes. And also some kind of gift as a formal apology for the natives who are very...conservative - hey! Get your hands off him! He's mine!"
Major Lorne trailed off, and a muffled scuffle ensued on the other side of the radio transmission.
John glanced at Elizabeth. She looked perplexed and also like she was trying not to laugh.
"Chuck?" she asked. "How is such a thing possible?"
"I don't know, Ma'am, but I can run diagnostics immediately." Chuck's hands flew across the control panel.
"Well?" John asked Elizabeth.
"Obviously we need to send them some clothes. Check with Teyla about an appropriate apology gift for the people of the planet. And suspend all gate travel until further notice."
John nodded. He radioed a marine to go to Lorne and Parrish's rooms to get spare uniforms, and then he radioed for Teyla.
By the time the marines returned with clean uniforms, Teyla and John had arranged a nice-looking gift basket with paper, pens, chocolate, some exotic fruits traded from other planets, and Teyla had penned a carefully-worded note.
Chuck fired up the gate.
Elizabeth got on the radio. "Major Lorne? Dr. Parrish?"
"Here, ma'am." Lorne sounded strangely breathless. Had he been combating the natives?
"We're sending clothes and a gift basket through. Clear a space in front of the gate. And please, give our deepest apologies to the people there," Elizabeth said. She nodded at John, and he and Rodney edged toward the event horizon, pushed the basket and clothes through.
John was unprepared for the yanking sensation on his wrist, and only had time to yelp before he was dragged through the event horizon by some unseen force.
He tumbled onto gravel, Rodney beside him. Both of them were stark naked.
The natives, covered from throat to wrist to ankle, abandoned the gift basket they'd been admiring and started screaming.
Lorne, halfway into his clean uniform (his torso was covered with suspicious red marks), toggled his radio.
"Ma'am, the stargate is still malfunctioning."
John scrambled to cover himself, but Rodney just sighed and heaved himself to his feet.
"What?" Rodney asked when John shot him a scandalized look. "It's nothing you've never seen before."
John had never seen that much of it before, and it looked pretty good.
"You know what I mean." Rodney rolled his eyes. "We're all men here. Except for, you know, those women over there."
Said women were hiding their faces behind their hands and weeping.
"We'll send through more clothes - with a MALP," Elizabeth said.
There was a pause, and then Chuck said, "So, apparently the gate has several different operating modes, and somehow it got switched to, um, Matchmaker Mode."
John raised his eyebrows at Lorne, who swallowed hard and blushed and turned to help Parrish into his tac vest. John glanced at Rodney, who was eyeing him speculatively.
John was about to stand up and inquire further about this Matchmaker Mode, and then the MALP crashed into him.
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/712513.html?thread=94138177#t94138177
"I'm sorry, Major, could you repeat that?" John glanced at Rodney to make sure he wasn't the only one hearing things.
"There was a gate malfunction, and when we stepped out on the other side, we had no clothes on. All our tac gear, but none of our clothes. So...please send clothes. And also some kind of gift as a formal apology for the natives who are very...conservative - hey! Get your hands off him! He's mine!"
Major Lorne trailed off, and a muffled scuffle ensued on the other side of the radio transmission.
John glanced at Elizabeth. She looked perplexed and also like she was trying not to laugh.
"Chuck?" she asked. "How is such a thing possible?"
"I don't know, Ma'am, but I can run diagnostics immediately." Chuck's hands flew across the control panel.
"Well?" John asked Elizabeth.
"Obviously we need to send them some clothes. Check with Teyla about an appropriate apology gift for the people of the planet. And suspend all gate travel until further notice."
John nodded. He radioed a marine to go to Lorne and Parrish's rooms to get spare uniforms, and then he radioed for Teyla.
By the time the marines returned with clean uniforms, Teyla and John had arranged a nice-looking gift basket with paper, pens, chocolate, some exotic fruits traded from other planets, and Teyla had penned a carefully-worded note.
Chuck fired up the gate.
Elizabeth got on the radio. "Major Lorne? Dr. Parrish?"
"Here, ma'am." Lorne sounded strangely breathless. Had he been combating the natives?
"We're sending clothes and a gift basket through. Clear a space in front of the gate. And please, give our deepest apologies to the people there," Elizabeth said. She nodded at John, and he and Rodney edged toward the event horizon, pushed the basket and clothes through.
John was unprepared for the yanking sensation on his wrist, and only had time to yelp before he was dragged through the event horizon by some unseen force.
He tumbled onto gravel, Rodney beside him. Both of them were stark naked.
The natives, covered from throat to wrist to ankle, abandoned the gift basket they'd been admiring and started screaming.
Lorne, halfway into his clean uniform (his torso was covered with suspicious red marks), toggled his radio.
"Ma'am, the stargate is still malfunctioning."
John scrambled to cover himself, but Rodney just sighed and heaved himself to his feet.
"What?" Rodney asked when John shot him a scandalized look. "It's nothing you've never seen before."
John had never seen that much of it before, and it looked pretty good.
"You know what I mean." Rodney rolled his eyes. "We're all men here. Except for, you know, those women over there."
Said women were hiding their faces behind their hands and weeping.
"We'll send through more clothes - with a MALP," Elizabeth said.
There was a pause, and then Chuck said, "So, apparently the gate has several different operating modes, and somehow it got switched to, um, Matchmaker Mode."
John raised his eyebrows at Lorne, who swallowed hard and blushed and turned to help Parrish into his tac vest. John glanced at Rodney, who was eyeing him speculatively.
John was about to stand up and inquire further about this Matchmaker Mode, and then the MALP crashed into him.
No. 44
Prompt:Any, Any, They wake up one morning only able to talk in TV catchphrases.
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/712513.html?thread=94137665#t94137665
John knew something was wrong when he woke up and rolled over, kissed Rodney on the bare shoulder and went to ask how he slept and what came out instead was, "What's up, Doc?"
Rodney blinked at him and murmured a bleary, "How you doin'?" like he was in an episode of Friends.
It wasn't just them, though. Zelenka was, glumly, dedicated to the cause of Wabbit season.
Lorne couldn't even talk. He'd open his mouth and that weird donk-donk sound from Law & Order came out.
Everyone was reduced to writing notes, and suddenly those college dorm whiteboards that had come on the most recent delivery from the Daedalus didn't seem so stupid.
Ronon and Teyla were baffled, because neither of them even knew Earth TV shows (although Ronon was pretty gleeful about saying You're fired!).
And Teyla could only say, "Indeed," which made no sense. Sure, it was legendary among the expedition members who'd done time at the SGC under The Mountain that it was Teal'c's go-to word, but no one knew what TV show her rendition hailed from, especially since she intoned it just like Teal'c did.
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/712513.html?thread=94137665#t94137665
John knew something was wrong when he woke up and rolled over, kissed Rodney on the bare shoulder and went to ask how he slept and what came out instead was, "What's up, Doc?"
Rodney blinked at him and murmured a bleary, "How you doin'?" like he was in an episode of Friends.
It wasn't just them, though. Zelenka was, glumly, dedicated to the cause of Wabbit season.
Lorne couldn't even talk. He'd open his mouth and that weird donk-donk sound from Law & Order came out.
Everyone was reduced to writing notes, and suddenly those college dorm whiteboards that had come on the most recent delivery from the Daedalus didn't seem so stupid.
Ronon and Teyla were baffled, because neither of them even knew Earth TV shows (although Ronon was pretty gleeful about saying You're fired!).
And Teyla could only say, "Indeed," which made no sense. Sure, it was legendary among the expedition members who'd done time at the SGC under The Mountain that it was Teal'c's go-to word, but no one knew what TV show her rendition hailed from, especially since she intoned it just like Teal'c did.
No. 43
Prompt:Stargate Atlantis, Evan Lorne, When the robot invaders come Lorne is the only one who can turn them away. Without even breaking a sweat. (Do robots sweat?)
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/712513.html?thread=94136897#t94136897
"Of course we didn't detect any life signs!" Rodney snapped. "Because they're not alive! They're robots!"
"Where they hell did they all come from?" John struggled with his bonds. If he could just twist far enough, he could get to the knife in his boot and maybe cut them free.
The city was on fire. People were running and screaming. The heavy ozone scent of stunner blasts filled the air.
"How should I know? Some kind of demented robot factory, obviously. They're not replicators." Rodney was struggling too, but the wrong way, and it wasn't helping.
And then a voice came over the radio. "I've got this, sir."
John paused, lifted his head. "Major Lorne? I ordered you to lead the evac to the Alpha Site."
"I got as many people through the gate as I could," Lorne said. "Let me handle the robots."
"By yourself?" Rodney cried. "Do you have a death wish?"
"No," Lorne said, and then John saw, down in the gate room, Lorne was surrounded by robots backing him toward the deactivated stargate.
They didn't even look humanoid, were skeletal and metal but bipedal and armed to the teeth. Half of their limbs were just machine guns in disguise, and John was convinced they could make ammo out of thin air. They all had their weapons aimed at Lorne.
Who raised his hands in a gesture of surrender...and began emitting sounds like a digital dolphin, clicks and squeaks and beeps, and the robots responded. Trembled. Squeaked in reply.
"Are...are they laughing?" Rodney asked.
One of the robots lunged at Lorne, and John cried out, but the robot was - hugging him.
On the other side of the room, Zelenka and Parrish were bound to each other.
"See," Zelenka said, "I told you he was a robot."
"A robot who tells robot jokes," Parrish said faintly. "I always meant it metaphorically when I said he was a machine in bed."
"Whoa, TMI." John wriggled some more, managed to get his boot close enough to reach for his knife. "C'mon, Rodney, let's go rescue Lorne."
"I don't think he needs rescuing," Rodney said.
Lorne was directing one of the robots to heal a fallen scientist. Another robot was ruffling Lorne's hair affectionately, and John suspected that the writers who directed his life were on some serious drugs, and right about now, he probably needed a dose.
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/712513.html?thread=94136897#t94136897
"Of course we didn't detect any life signs!" Rodney snapped. "Because they're not alive! They're robots!"
"Where they hell did they all come from?" John struggled with his bonds. If he could just twist far enough, he could get to the knife in his boot and maybe cut them free.
The city was on fire. People were running and screaming. The heavy ozone scent of stunner blasts filled the air.
"How should I know? Some kind of demented robot factory, obviously. They're not replicators." Rodney was struggling too, but the wrong way, and it wasn't helping.
And then a voice came over the radio. "I've got this, sir."
John paused, lifted his head. "Major Lorne? I ordered you to lead the evac to the Alpha Site."
"I got as many people through the gate as I could," Lorne said. "Let me handle the robots."
"By yourself?" Rodney cried. "Do you have a death wish?"
"No," Lorne said, and then John saw, down in the gate room, Lorne was surrounded by robots backing him toward the deactivated stargate.
They didn't even look humanoid, were skeletal and metal but bipedal and armed to the teeth. Half of their limbs were just machine guns in disguise, and John was convinced they could make ammo out of thin air. They all had their weapons aimed at Lorne.
Who raised his hands in a gesture of surrender...and began emitting sounds like a digital dolphin, clicks and squeaks and beeps, and the robots responded. Trembled. Squeaked in reply.
"Are...are they laughing?" Rodney asked.
One of the robots lunged at Lorne, and John cried out, but the robot was - hugging him.
On the other side of the room, Zelenka and Parrish were bound to each other.
"See," Zelenka said, "I told you he was a robot."
"A robot who tells robot jokes," Parrish said faintly. "I always meant it metaphorically when I said he was a machine in bed."
"Whoa, TMI." John wriggled some more, managed to get his boot close enough to reach for his knife. "C'mon, Rodney, let's go rescue Lorne."
"I don't think he needs rescuing," Rodney said.
Lorne was directing one of the robots to heal a fallen scientist. Another robot was ruffling Lorne's hair affectionately, and John suspected that the writers who directed his life were on some serious drugs, and right about now, he probably needed a dose.
No. 42
Prompt:Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard/Rodney McKay, An off-world mission leads to some rather unexpected physical transformations.
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/712513.html?thread=94133569#t94133569
"Pretty sure there's an anime stereotype for that," Dr. Naoe said, glancing up from his laptop briefly.
Rodney sighed. "Can you help me or not?"
"I'm a hacker, not a geneticist. Take it up with Beckett. Or Kusanagi. In fact..." Naoe turned and hollered over his shoulder for Miko Kusanagi, whose eyes went very wide when she saw Rodney. He didn't speak Japanese, but the words Neko and Kawaii were being bandied around a lot, and he suspected that was bad for him.
"Dr. McKay," Kusanagi said, blinking rapidly. "What happened?"
"Ancient device, off-world, touched what he shouldn't have touched," John said, and Rodney gritted his teeth, because how dare John sound so calm? He'd touched the damn thing too.
Kusanagi made a small sound and looked ready to faint.
Naoe sighed and sat her down in a chair.
Truth was, John looked unfairly cute, with his black-and-grey tabby-striped ears and swishing tail to match. Rodney looked stupid, with calico ears and a tail. He was no zoologist, but he was pretty sure most calico cats were girls.
"Describe the Ancient device to me?" Naoe asked.
Major Lorne, who'd followed John, handed Naoe a very accurate sketch.
Naoe opened a command prompt on his screen and began typing rapidly. "Let me put a query out to the Ancient database and see what I can find. Did you get Zelenka on it?"
"He's coughing up a hairball right about now," John said, grinning.
Lorne, who had sleek white ears with black tips, heaved a sigh of long-suffering. "I'll go track down a zoologist."
"This could take a while," Naoe said. "In the meantime, I think Dr. La Croix has some of those amazing chocolate mice."
Rodney perked up at the mention of mice, then immediately scowled when John snickered at him.
"I'm more interested in a ball of yarn, actually," John said. He caught Rodney's elbow and steered him out of the lab. Kusanagi was still staring at them dazedly.
As it turned out, John meant silk rope rather more than ball of yarn, but Rodney didn't care, because when John tied him down and nuzzled at his new ears like that, everything in the world was just fine.
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/712513.html?thread=94133569#t94133569
"Pretty sure there's an anime stereotype for that," Dr. Naoe said, glancing up from his laptop briefly.
Rodney sighed. "Can you help me or not?"
"I'm a hacker, not a geneticist. Take it up with Beckett. Or Kusanagi. In fact..." Naoe turned and hollered over his shoulder for Miko Kusanagi, whose eyes went very wide when she saw Rodney. He didn't speak Japanese, but the words Neko and Kawaii were being bandied around a lot, and he suspected that was bad for him.
"Dr. McKay," Kusanagi said, blinking rapidly. "What happened?"
"Ancient device, off-world, touched what he shouldn't have touched," John said, and Rodney gritted his teeth, because how dare John sound so calm? He'd touched the damn thing too.
Kusanagi made a small sound and looked ready to faint.
Naoe sighed and sat her down in a chair.
Truth was, John looked unfairly cute, with his black-and-grey tabby-striped ears and swishing tail to match. Rodney looked stupid, with calico ears and a tail. He was no zoologist, but he was pretty sure most calico cats were girls.
"Describe the Ancient device to me?" Naoe asked.
Major Lorne, who'd followed John, handed Naoe a very accurate sketch.
Naoe opened a command prompt on his screen and began typing rapidly. "Let me put a query out to the Ancient database and see what I can find. Did you get Zelenka on it?"
"He's coughing up a hairball right about now," John said, grinning.
Lorne, who had sleek white ears with black tips, heaved a sigh of long-suffering. "I'll go track down a zoologist."
"This could take a while," Naoe said. "In the meantime, I think Dr. La Croix has some of those amazing chocolate mice."
Rodney perked up at the mention of mice, then immediately scowled when John snickered at him.
"I'm more interested in a ball of yarn, actually," John said. He caught Rodney's elbow and steered him out of the lab. Kusanagi was still staring at them dazedly.
As it turned out, John meant silk rope rather more than ball of yarn, but Rodney didn't care, because when John tied him down and nuzzled at his new ears like that, everything in the world was just fine.
Tuesday, April 19, 2016
No. 41
Prompt:author's choice, author's choice, i put away my childish things - Daniel in foster care
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/712436.html?thread=94106356#t94106356
“Daniel?”
“Hm?” He glanced up from his copy of Budge. It was his most prized possession, the one that had belonged to his mother, with her and his father’s endless annotations - criticisms in the margins.
His foster brother Simon (six years old, mother a drug addict, father abusive), rested his chin on his hands and peered at Daniel over the arm of the chair Daniel was curled in while he read.
“What do you dream about?”
“Finding out who really built the pyramids,” Daniel said. “Going back to Egypt one day. Finding treasure.”
Simon frowned. “Don’t you dream about having a forever family? A real mommy and daddy?” He’d been passed from relative to relative so many times he barely remembered the woman who called herself his mother when she bothered to visit once in a blue moon.
Daniel gazed into Simon’s little earnest face. He’d been in this foster home for a long time, was lucky that his parents had friends who were willing to take him in, but he was under no illusion that he was adoptable. He was too old. Too defiant. Talked back to teachers too much. If he weren’t so obedient about doing his chores and getting good grades, he’d probably have been sent on a long time ago, with the way teachers kept complaining about him (and of course his law guardian and caseworker defended him, saying he was bored because he was so brilliant).
He was both and more. Brilliant. Bored. And disillusioned about childhood. There was no safety and security. Disaster was a broken chain, a falling coverstone away.
They’d thought he was trouble because he hadn’t spoken for six months.
Then they’d thought he was trouble because he never stopped talking if he didn’t have his nose in a book.
“I have a forever family,” Daniel said. “They’re just in heaven right now.” He hesitated on heaven, because he’d studied too many cultures and religions and faiths to believe in a single vision of the afterlife.
“I want a forever family.” Simon sighed gustily. “My caseworker says I’m cute enough for one. Are you not cute enough for a new family?”
Daniel laughed. “No, I’m too old to be cute.”
Simon’s eyes went wide. “Am I too old to be cute?”
“No,” Daniel said quickly. “You’ll never be too old to be cute. There’s a forever family out there for you.” It was a lie. Simon had a tendency to lie and hoard food, sleep on the floor and steal things because he could. If he didn’t get it together, he’d be moved on and moved on and moved on and never get his forever family.
But Simon was a child, and he deserved to hold onto his childish dreams for just a little longer.
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/712436.html?thread=94106356#t94106356
“Daniel?”
“Hm?” He glanced up from his copy of Budge. It was his most prized possession, the one that had belonged to his mother, with her and his father’s endless annotations - criticisms in the margins.
His foster brother Simon (six years old, mother a drug addict, father abusive), rested his chin on his hands and peered at Daniel over the arm of the chair Daniel was curled in while he read.
“What do you dream about?”
“Finding out who really built the pyramids,” Daniel said. “Going back to Egypt one day. Finding treasure.”
Simon frowned. “Don’t you dream about having a forever family? A real mommy and daddy?” He’d been passed from relative to relative so many times he barely remembered the woman who called herself his mother when she bothered to visit once in a blue moon.
Daniel gazed into Simon’s little earnest face. He’d been in this foster home for a long time, was lucky that his parents had friends who were willing to take him in, but he was under no illusion that he was adoptable. He was too old. Too defiant. Talked back to teachers too much. If he weren’t so obedient about doing his chores and getting good grades, he’d probably have been sent on a long time ago, with the way teachers kept complaining about him (and of course his law guardian and caseworker defended him, saying he was bored because he was so brilliant).
He was both and more. Brilliant. Bored. And disillusioned about childhood. There was no safety and security. Disaster was a broken chain, a falling coverstone away.
They’d thought he was trouble because he hadn’t spoken for six months.
Then they’d thought he was trouble because he never stopped talking if he didn’t have his nose in a book.
“I have a forever family,” Daniel said. “They’re just in heaven right now.” He hesitated on heaven, because he’d studied too many cultures and religions and faiths to believe in a single vision of the afterlife.
“I want a forever family.” Simon sighed gustily. “My caseworker says I’m cute enough for one. Are you not cute enough for a new family?”
Daniel laughed. “No, I’m too old to be cute.”
Simon’s eyes went wide. “Am I too old to be cute?”
“No,” Daniel said quickly. “You’ll never be too old to be cute. There’s a forever family out there for you.” It was a lie. Simon had a tendency to lie and hoard food, sleep on the floor and steal things because he could. If he didn’t get it together, he’d be moved on and moved on and moved on and never get his forever family.
But Simon was a child, and he deserved to hold onto his childish dreams for just a little longer.
Monday, April 18, 2016
No. 39
Prompt: Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard/Rodney McKay, John Sheppard's IDC comes through the Stargate from offworld, but it's Rodney McKay that walks through it.
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/712125.html?thread=94081725#t94081725
“Unscheduled off-world activation,” Chuck said.
Elizabeth lifted her head from the Ancient text she was studying.
“Major Sheppard’s IDC,” Chuck continued.
Elizabeth nodded. “Open the iris.”
Chuck obeyed, and the iris disengaged.
“Hang on now,” John said, and Elizabeth spun around.
“Major Sheppard! What are you doing here?”
John gestured to the sling his arm was in. Elizabeth stared.
“Ma’am?” Chuck asked. “Who’s using his IDC?”
They all stared as Rodney McKay came strolling through the gate. A Rodney McKay who was wearing the black-and-grey uniform of a soldier, wearing a tac vest and carrying a P-90, and was followed by...Teyla, Lieutenant Vega, and...Jeannie Miller, who was wearing the blue-and-grey uniform of a scientist.
“--For the last time, Meredith,” Jeannie was saying. “Your dumb act is getting really old.” Rodney raised a hand and waved to Elizabeth. “Dr. Weir,” he said, “we’re back safe and sound, but whatever Ancient tech was on that planet is either long gone or long-defunct. Jeannie didn’t get any readings.” “Rodney,” Elizabeth said, “why are you using John’s IDC? And what is your sister doing here?” Rodney, starting to unclip his P-90, paused. “Ma’am? Dr. McKay has been a member of my gate team since day one. And I used my IDC. I’m the military commander of Atlantis. Why would John Sheppard, who’s the CSO, have the same IDC as me?” He smiled up at John fondly, which made Elizabeth blink.
Jeannie cleared her throat. “Meredith, take a good look at John.”
“I know what he looks like,” Rodney said.
“He’s wearing a military uniform,” Jeannie said.
“That’s because I am the military commander of Atlantis,” John said. “Major John Sheppard, United States Air Force. Pleased to meet you…?”
“Major Rodney McKay, Royal Canadian Air Force,” Rodney said. He rounded on Jeannie. “Are you sure you dialed the gate right?”
“This is Atlantis, isn’t it?”
“The wrong Atlantis!”
“Sir,” Vega said, and that was just uncanny, “what should we do?”
“More importantly,” John said, “where’s our Rodney and Teyla and Ronon?”
“Did you experience any energy fluctuations or malfunctions or anything else unusual while you dialed or when the wormhole stabilized?” Chuck asked.
Jeannie shook her head. “The planet was basically empty. It was a routine recon.”
John said, “We should send Lorne and Zelenka through to the planet to check the DHD and see what they can figure out.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Chuck, you and Amelia run gate diagnostics. Hopefully we can figure this out.”
“I can help,” Jeannie said. “Mer could, too, if he’d stop playing dumb.” She actually punched him in the shoulder.
Rodney rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh of longsuffering. “Yes, we can try to help.”
“I’m sure you understand, but we need you checked out by Dr. Beckett before anything else,” Elizabeth said.
Rodney nodded. “Of course. Make sure we’re not replicators or anything else unpleasant.”
John radioed for a security team, who relieved Rodney and his team of their weapons.
“I’ll escort them to Beckett,” John said.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said. John trotted down the stairs to the gate room, looking Rodney up and down, amused by the notion of Rodney as a soldier.
“So,” John said, “I’m CSO in your universe, am I?”
“You’re brilliant no matter what universe you’re in,” Rodney said, and leaned in, kissed John on the mouth.
Everybody froze.
Jeannie cleared her throat. “Mer. Not our universe. American military. DADT.”
Rodney stepped back very carefully, hands raised in a gesture of surrender. “Right. Sorry. It’s sort of - reflexive at this point.”
John was blushing bright red. Elizabeth had never seen him blush before.
“Right. Let’s remember that not all is the same between our universes and keep our hands and mouths to ourselves from here on out, all right?”
“Right,” Rodney said, smiling tightly. “Lead on, Major.”
“After you, Major.”
Elizabeth noticed the way John’s gaze fixed speculatively on Rodney as the marines escorted them out of Ops, and she wondered if their universes weren’t so different after all.
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/712125.html?thread=94081725#t94081725
“Unscheduled off-world activation,” Chuck said.
Elizabeth lifted her head from the Ancient text she was studying.
“Major Sheppard’s IDC,” Chuck continued.
Elizabeth nodded. “Open the iris.”
Chuck obeyed, and the iris disengaged.
“Hang on now,” John said, and Elizabeth spun around.
“Major Sheppard! What are you doing here?”
John gestured to the sling his arm was in. Elizabeth stared.
“Ma’am?” Chuck asked. “Who’s using his IDC?”
They all stared as Rodney McKay came strolling through the gate. A Rodney McKay who was wearing the black-and-grey uniform of a soldier, wearing a tac vest and carrying a P-90, and was followed by...Teyla, Lieutenant Vega, and...Jeannie Miller, who was wearing the blue-and-grey uniform of a scientist.
“--For the last time, Meredith,” Jeannie was saying. “Your dumb act is getting really old.” Rodney raised a hand and waved to Elizabeth. “Dr. Weir,” he said, “we’re back safe and sound, but whatever Ancient tech was on that planet is either long gone or long-defunct. Jeannie didn’t get any readings.” “Rodney,” Elizabeth said, “why are you using John’s IDC? And what is your sister doing here?” Rodney, starting to unclip his P-90, paused. “Ma’am? Dr. McKay has been a member of my gate team since day one. And I used my IDC. I’m the military commander of Atlantis. Why would John Sheppard, who’s the CSO, have the same IDC as me?” He smiled up at John fondly, which made Elizabeth blink.
Jeannie cleared her throat. “Meredith, take a good look at John.”
“I know what he looks like,” Rodney said.
“He’s wearing a military uniform,” Jeannie said.
“That’s because I am the military commander of Atlantis,” John said. “Major John Sheppard, United States Air Force. Pleased to meet you…?”
“Major Rodney McKay, Royal Canadian Air Force,” Rodney said. He rounded on Jeannie. “Are you sure you dialed the gate right?”
“This is Atlantis, isn’t it?”
“The wrong Atlantis!”
“Sir,” Vega said, and that was just uncanny, “what should we do?”
“More importantly,” John said, “where’s our Rodney and Teyla and Ronon?”
“Did you experience any energy fluctuations or malfunctions or anything else unusual while you dialed or when the wormhole stabilized?” Chuck asked.
Jeannie shook her head. “The planet was basically empty. It was a routine recon.”
John said, “We should send Lorne and Zelenka through to the planet to check the DHD and see what they can figure out.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Chuck, you and Amelia run gate diagnostics. Hopefully we can figure this out.”
“I can help,” Jeannie said. “Mer could, too, if he’d stop playing dumb.” She actually punched him in the shoulder.
Rodney rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh of longsuffering. “Yes, we can try to help.”
“I’m sure you understand, but we need you checked out by Dr. Beckett before anything else,” Elizabeth said.
Rodney nodded. “Of course. Make sure we’re not replicators or anything else unpleasant.”
John radioed for a security team, who relieved Rodney and his team of their weapons.
“I’ll escort them to Beckett,” John said.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth said. John trotted down the stairs to the gate room, looking Rodney up and down, amused by the notion of Rodney as a soldier.
“So,” John said, “I’m CSO in your universe, am I?”
“You’re brilliant no matter what universe you’re in,” Rodney said, and leaned in, kissed John on the mouth.
Everybody froze.
Jeannie cleared her throat. “Mer. Not our universe. American military. DADT.”
Rodney stepped back very carefully, hands raised in a gesture of surrender. “Right. Sorry. It’s sort of - reflexive at this point.”
John was blushing bright red. Elizabeth had never seen him blush before.
“Right. Let’s remember that not all is the same between our universes and keep our hands and mouths to ourselves from here on out, all right?”
“Right,” Rodney said, smiling tightly. “Lead on, Major.”
“After you, Major.”
Elizabeth noticed the way John’s gaze fixed speculatively on Rodney as the marines escorted them out of Ops, and she wondered if their universes weren’t so different after all.
No. 40
Prompt: Stargate Multiverse, Any, they put an address in the DHD, but that's not where they ended up
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/712125.html?thread=94083773#t94083773
“You know what I’m looking forward to?” Rodney asked.
“What?” John scanned the horizon, P-90 at the ready. Even though their first contact with the natives had gone well, a soldier could never be too careful. The natives reported that they hadn’t been culled by the Wraith in a long time. Given how small their population was, that was understandable. Even if they were technologically primitive, their planet could be useful as an evacuation site in case of an emergency.
“Brownies,” Rodney said. “It’s brownie day in the mess hall. Daedalus came by with real cocoa powder. I heard Lorne talking about it.” He smiled dreamily. “Lorne’s such an amazing baker. He’s going to make a real great wife for someone one day.”
“Don’t let him hear you say that,” John said. “Lorne is also the champion of the SGC USAF annual boxing tournament four years running.”
Ronon raised his eyebrows. “Really? Whenever I spar with him -”
“You’d probably kick Bruce Lee’s ass,” John said.
Ronon looked confused.
“Never mind.” John checked their surroundings once more, then he, Ronon, and Teyla fell into formation to guard Rodney while he dialed Atlantis.
The gate fired up, no problems, and Rodney sent his IDC through. Since no one was chasing them, they waited three seconds for the gate shield to come down, and then they stepped through.
...And into some kind of medieval prom that was definitely not the Atlantis gate room.
The music came to a screeching halt, and all of the kids - some as young as fourteen, the oldest maybe nineteen - turned to stare at them.
“Rodney,” John said out of the corner of his mouth, feigning a smile, “what did you do?”
“I dialed Atlantis,” Rodney hissed back.
A tall man dressed like, no kidding, Merlin the wizard, complete with bright purple robes and a long white beard full of bells, stepped toward them.
“Hello, travelers,” he said.
“Hi.” John raised one hand in greeting. “I’m Major John Sheppard. This is Dr. Rodney McKay, Teyla Emmagan, and Ronon Dex. We’re peaceful explorers from the City of Atlantis.”
“Atlantis,” the old man said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “I haven’t heard that name in a long time. I am Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Welcome to the Yule Ball.”
“I think we might have hit a wrong button and ended up...here, instead of Atlantis,” John said. “So if we could just have access to your DHD, we’ll let you get back to your party and be on our way.”
“DHD?” Dumbledore inquired.
Rodney shaped a mushroom-like device with his hands in the air. “About yea high. Covered with the same symbols as on the gate behind us.”
“Gate?” Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.
“Ring of the Ancestors,” Teyla suggested.
“Some mirrors are gates,” Dumbledore said, “but I am unfamiliar with this Ring of the Ancestors.”
John spun around. Behind them was a massive stone wall, rising to a gothic arch, decorated with silvery icicles and shining snowflakes, and also a full-length mirror with a fancy wrought-brass frame. It looked like something antique from Earth, but not Ancient.
Rodney made a low sound of distress. “But it’s brownie day!”
“We do have brownies,” Dumbledore said. “Please, I am much intrigued by news of Atlantis. Let us speak, and perhaps I can help you find your way home.”
And that was how they found themselves in a dungeon, surrounded by house elves who were plying Rodney with brownies while he argued with a black-haired, hook-nosed man named Severus Snape over teleportation, portkeys, and other traveling magic, and John was thinking things on for Dumbledore over and over and over again.
“These are pretty good brownies,” Ronon said, taking another one from a tiny elf. “Thanks,” he said, and the thing promptly burst into tears.
Teyla shot him a look and tried to console it, and it cried more.
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/712125.html?thread=94083773#t94083773
“You know what I’m looking forward to?” Rodney asked.
“What?” John scanned the horizon, P-90 at the ready. Even though their first contact with the natives had gone well, a soldier could never be too careful. The natives reported that they hadn’t been culled by the Wraith in a long time. Given how small their population was, that was understandable. Even if they were technologically primitive, their planet could be useful as an evacuation site in case of an emergency.
“Brownies,” Rodney said. “It’s brownie day in the mess hall. Daedalus came by with real cocoa powder. I heard Lorne talking about it.” He smiled dreamily. “Lorne’s such an amazing baker. He’s going to make a real great wife for someone one day.”
“Don’t let him hear you say that,” John said. “Lorne is also the champion of the SGC USAF annual boxing tournament four years running.”
Ronon raised his eyebrows. “Really? Whenever I spar with him -”
“You’d probably kick Bruce Lee’s ass,” John said.
Ronon looked confused.
“Never mind.” John checked their surroundings once more, then he, Ronon, and Teyla fell into formation to guard Rodney while he dialed Atlantis.
The gate fired up, no problems, and Rodney sent his IDC through. Since no one was chasing them, they waited three seconds for the gate shield to come down, and then they stepped through.
...And into some kind of medieval prom that was definitely not the Atlantis gate room.
The music came to a screeching halt, and all of the kids - some as young as fourteen, the oldest maybe nineteen - turned to stare at them.
“Rodney,” John said out of the corner of his mouth, feigning a smile, “what did you do?”
“I dialed Atlantis,” Rodney hissed back.
A tall man dressed like, no kidding, Merlin the wizard, complete with bright purple robes and a long white beard full of bells, stepped toward them.
“Hello, travelers,” he said.
“Hi.” John raised one hand in greeting. “I’m Major John Sheppard. This is Dr. Rodney McKay, Teyla Emmagan, and Ronon Dex. We’re peaceful explorers from the City of Atlantis.”
“Atlantis,” the old man said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “I haven’t heard that name in a long time. I am Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Welcome to the Yule Ball.”
“I think we might have hit a wrong button and ended up...here, instead of Atlantis,” John said. “So if we could just have access to your DHD, we’ll let you get back to your party and be on our way.”
“DHD?” Dumbledore inquired.
Rodney shaped a mushroom-like device with his hands in the air. “About yea high. Covered with the same symbols as on the gate behind us.”
“Gate?” Dumbledore raised his eyebrows.
“Ring of the Ancestors,” Teyla suggested.
“Some mirrors are gates,” Dumbledore said, “but I am unfamiliar with this Ring of the Ancestors.”
John spun around. Behind them was a massive stone wall, rising to a gothic arch, decorated with silvery icicles and shining snowflakes, and also a full-length mirror with a fancy wrought-brass frame. It looked like something antique from Earth, but not Ancient.
Rodney made a low sound of distress. “But it’s brownie day!”
“We do have brownies,” Dumbledore said. “Please, I am much intrigued by news of Atlantis. Let us speak, and perhaps I can help you find your way home.”
And that was how they found themselves in a dungeon, surrounded by house elves who were plying Rodney with brownies while he argued with a black-haired, hook-nosed man named Severus Snape over teleportation, portkeys, and other traveling magic, and John was thinking things on for Dumbledore over and over and over again.
“These are pretty good brownies,” Ronon said, taking another one from a tiny elf. “Thanks,” he said, and the thing promptly burst into tears.
Teyla shot him a look and tried to console it, and it cried more.
Thursday, April 14, 2016
No. 38
Prompt: Stargate: SG-1, Daniel Jackson (+/Any),
Childhood is not from birth to a certain age and at a certain age
The child is grown, and puts away childish things.
Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies.
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/711094.html?thread=94007222#t94007222
"And for those reasons, your honor, I recommend that my client be emancipated, as emancipation is in his best interest." Anna glanced at the boy beside her, raised her eyebrows.
He nodded.
Judge Heinlein cleared his throat. "I appreciate your recommendation, counsel. Do you have anything to say for yourself, young man?"
Daniel cleared his throat, lifted his chin. "Your Honor, I've received a full-tuition scholarship to the University of Chicago's archaeology program. I've also received additional stipends for housing and book expenses. Over the past year I've demonstrated my ability to manage my own affairs. I graduated from school with honors, I've maintained my own budget and expenses. I appreciate the assistance I've received from the state, but after my foster parents passed away, my unstable residence in various group homes has been...less than ideal. I'm ready to strike out on my own. My education will go much more smoothly if I can handle things on my own without state intervention."
"All well and good, young man," Judge Heinlein said. "That's basically what your lawyer told me. But what about you? How will you feel, out on your own? Who will you go home to on the holidays?"
"I'll be fine, sir. I'll manage. I always do." Daniel smiled.
Heinlein raised his eyebrows at Anna. She shrugged. There was nothing else to say or do. There was no legal reason to keep Daniel in state's custody and every reason to set him free.
"In that case, I find that it is in Daniel Jackson's best interest to be emancipated and for court jurisdiction over him to be terminated. I release the Division of Child Services and the law guardian with our thanks. It is so ordered."
"Thank you, your honor," Daniel said.
Anna smiled at him. "Go wait out in the hall. I'll bring you a copy of the order."
Daniel nodded, straightened his tie, and left the courtroom. As soon as the doors closed behind him, Heinlein took off his glasses and sighed.
"He's a solemn kid, isn't he?"
"I don't think he's been a kid since the day I met him," Anna said. She shook her head. "Eight years old when his parents died."
"Well, he's a man now, as far as the state is concerned."
"I think he'll be a good man, sir," Anna said. She gathered her files into her briefcase.
"I hope so, counselor."
Anna glanced at the double doors and wondered what Daniel Jackson would do with his lifetime. She was sure it would be something wonderful.
Childhood is not from birth to a certain age and at a certain age
The child is grown, and puts away childish things.
Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies.
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/711094.html?thread=94007222#t94007222
"And for those reasons, your honor, I recommend that my client be emancipated, as emancipation is in his best interest." Anna glanced at the boy beside her, raised her eyebrows.
He nodded.
Judge Heinlein cleared his throat. "I appreciate your recommendation, counsel. Do you have anything to say for yourself, young man?"
Daniel cleared his throat, lifted his chin. "Your Honor, I've received a full-tuition scholarship to the University of Chicago's archaeology program. I've also received additional stipends for housing and book expenses. Over the past year I've demonstrated my ability to manage my own affairs. I graduated from school with honors, I've maintained my own budget and expenses. I appreciate the assistance I've received from the state, but after my foster parents passed away, my unstable residence in various group homes has been...less than ideal. I'm ready to strike out on my own. My education will go much more smoothly if I can handle things on my own without state intervention."
"All well and good, young man," Judge Heinlein said. "That's basically what your lawyer told me. But what about you? How will you feel, out on your own? Who will you go home to on the holidays?"
"I'll be fine, sir. I'll manage. I always do." Daniel smiled.
Heinlein raised his eyebrows at Anna. She shrugged. There was nothing else to say or do. There was no legal reason to keep Daniel in state's custody and every reason to set him free.
"In that case, I find that it is in Daniel Jackson's best interest to be emancipated and for court jurisdiction over him to be terminated. I release the Division of Child Services and the law guardian with our thanks. It is so ordered."
"Thank you, your honor," Daniel said.
Anna smiled at him. "Go wait out in the hall. I'll bring you a copy of the order."
Daniel nodded, straightened his tie, and left the courtroom. As soon as the doors closed behind him, Heinlein took off his glasses and sighed.
"He's a solemn kid, isn't he?"
"I don't think he's been a kid since the day I met him," Anna said. She shook her head. "Eight years old when his parents died."
"Well, he's a man now, as far as the state is concerned."
"I think he'll be a good man, sir," Anna said. She gathered her files into her briefcase.
"I hope so, counselor."
Anna glanced at the double doors and wondered what Daniel Jackson would do with his lifetime. She was sure it would be something wonderful.
Monday, April 4, 2016
No. 37
Prompt: Stargate: SG1, any, walking on stars
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/708553.html?thread=93665737#t93665737
Carolyn knew Janet Fraiser had gone off-world more than once, usually to assist a planet's natives with her expertise, or to provide medical assistance in support of a treaty. The last time Janet Fraiser had gone off world had been, well, her last. So the first time her father authorized SG-11 to take her through the Stargate or a simple walkabout mission - glad-hand the natives, hand out antihistamines and boxes of tissue - she was nervous. Irrationally nervous, she was sure, because it was a simple mission. But Janet Fraiser had been a soldier as well as a doctor, and she was better equipped to handle what could happen on the other side of the gate. Anything could happen on the other side of the gate. Dr. Balinsky, sulking in one of the far cots and temporarily a woman, was proof of that.
She listened very carefully as the Quartermaster explained everything that was in her tac vest, and she listened even more carefully as Sergeant Edwards, the member of SG-11 assigned to her personal security, explained the basic hand signals for silent communication and tactical advances on a space. Carolyn knew how to handle a firearm well enough, but she'd never been good at using one under pressure.
"Don't worry," Edwards said, smiling. She was a round-cheeked, blue-eyed, pretty woman with a kind smile and glasses. "I've got your back. And hey, this planet is all human."
"All human?" Carolyn echoed.
"We were on an Unas planet overseeing a mine operation for forever," Edwards said, rolling her eyes. "The marines taught the Unas how to play football. Got tackled a few times. It's only thanks to your medical team's expertise that I'm still here." She nodded to the door. "Let's go."
Carolyn assembled with the rest of SG-11 at the bottom of the ramp in the gate room, and her heart pounded in her ears.
She heard he father give the go-ahead, and then it took all she had to force her feet to move, to keep pace with Edwards, who was striding up the gate like it was perfectly normal to get disassembled and shot across the galaxy.
At Stargate Command, it was.
They emerged on the other side in the middle of the night, with four shining moons overhead. It was perfectly, utterly quiet, no city sounds, no cars, no sirens, no music, no televisions. Just the wind rustling through the trees, and somewhere distant the sound of running water.
And the stars. Carolyn tipped her head back and stared. She was a city girl at heart, had followed her father from base to base all her life, had never had the chance to be somewhere without light pollution. Without air pollution. It was like there was no barrier between the planet and the sky.
Just...stars.
It was like she was walking among the stars. And in a sense, she was. Somewhere up in that sky was the Sun, the one that warmed Earth. She was standing on a planet that traveled around one of the stars she'd looked up at from Earth.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Edwards asked. She reached into her pocket, drew out one of those cheap little disposable cameras that still used film, aimed it at the sky, and took a shot.
Carolyn blinked at her.
Edwards shrugged. "I take a picture of the night sky on any new planet if I get the chance. Now come on - let's help some natives with their hay fever."
And on they walked.
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/708553.html?thread=93665737#t93665737
Carolyn knew Janet Fraiser had gone off-world more than once, usually to assist a planet's natives with her expertise, or to provide medical assistance in support of a treaty. The last time Janet Fraiser had gone off world had been, well, her last. So the first time her father authorized SG-11 to take her through the Stargate or a simple walkabout mission - glad-hand the natives, hand out antihistamines and boxes of tissue - she was nervous. Irrationally nervous, she was sure, because it was a simple mission. But Janet Fraiser had been a soldier as well as a doctor, and she was better equipped to handle what could happen on the other side of the gate. Anything could happen on the other side of the gate. Dr. Balinsky, sulking in one of the far cots and temporarily a woman, was proof of that.
She listened very carefully as the Quartermaster explained everything that was in her tac vest, and she listened even more carefully as Sergeant Edwards, the member of SG-11 assigned to her personal security, explained the basic hand signals for silent communication and tactical advances on a space. Carolyn knew how to handle a firearm well enough, but she'd never been good at using one under pressure.
"Don't worry," Edwards said, smiling. She was a round-cheeked, blue-eyed, pretty woman with a kind smile and glasses. "I've got your back. And hey, this planet is all human."
"All human?" Carolyn echoed.
"We were on an Unas planet overseeing a mine operation for forever," Edwards said, rolling her eyes. "The marines taught the Unas how to play football. Got tackled a few times. It's only thanks to your medical team's expertise that I'm still here." She nodded to the door. "Let's go."
Carolyn assembled with the rest of SG-11 at the bottom of the ramp in the gate room, and her heart pounded in her ears.
She heard he father give the go-ahead, and then it took all she had to force her feet to move, to keep pace with Edwards, who was striding up the gate like it was perfectly normal to get disassembled and shot across the galaxy.
At Stargate Command, it was.
They emerged on the other side in the middle of the night, with four shining moons overhead. It was perfectly, utterly quiet, no city sounds, no cars, no sirens, no music, no televisions. Just the wind rustling through the trees, and somewhere distant the sound of running water.
And the stars. Carolyn tipped her head back and stared. She was a city girl at heart, had followed her father from base to base all her life, had never had the chance to be somewhere without light pollution. Without air pollution. It was like there was no barrier between the planet and the sky.
Just...stars.
It was like she was walking among the stars. And in a sense, she was. Somewhere up in that sky was the Sun, the one that warmed Earth. She was standing on a planet that traveled around one of the stars she'd looked up at from Earth.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Edwards asked. She reached into her pocket, drew out one of those cheap little disposable cameras that still used film, aimed it at the sky, and took a shot.
Carolyn blinked at her.
Edwards shrugged. "I take a picture of the night sky on any new planet if I get the chance. Now come on - let's help some natives with their hay fever."
And on they walked.
Friday, April 1, 2016
No. 36
Prompt: Any (except Supernatural), any/any, soulmark au in which any writing/tattoos/etc on the hand and forearm also appear on the soul mate's hand/forearm (so when Character A writes Milk, Sugar, Nice biscuits on their arm Character B gets the things before Char A has time to, and if Char B gets F U C K tattooed on his/her knuckles they appear on Char A's knuckles at exactly the wrong moment)
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/707714.html?thread=93573506#t93573506
Rodney was convinced his future soulmate was some kind of closeted manwhore, because every Friday and Saturday night (and one baffling Tuesday night) all through grad school (when most ordinary peons would be in college), phone numbers appeared on Rodney's right hand, along with girls' names. They vanished fairly quickly afterward, like his future soulmate was washing them off, but if his future soulmate was attracting the likes of Trixie, Dixie, Roxie, and Candy, Rodney wanted a new soulmate, please.
He was slightly mollified when he saw the math formulas that appeared during what would be regular class hours. Whoever his future soulmate was, he was good at math (and Rodney wasn't much for subscribing to stereotypes, but his soulmate had fairly masculine-looking handwriting, and also Rodney was basically bi but mostly gay).
And then Rodney came up with a great idea. He and his soulmate could play a game. Prime/Not Prime. Rodney started, using a six-digit number. The response was rapid and, more importantly, correct. It was a great way to stay awake during boring lectures, even if Rodney looked like a victim of the worst tattoo artist at the end of it.
He would get nervous, sometimes, when his soulmate took a long time to respond. He was even more nervous when his soulmate's handwriting was shaky.
He was terrified when his soulmate didn't answer at all for weeks on end.
They never dared send real messages. What's your name? Where are you? What do you look like? Can we meet?
Just endless rounds of Prime/Not Prime. They upped the ante with Mersenne Primes. Penalized each other (with little frownie faces) for using a number that had already been played before.
One time Rodney woke in the night screaming with agonizing pain in his left shoulder. His soulmate had been shot.
The messages became few and far between when Rodney started working for the Stargate program, because he was incredibly busy, and his soulmate was incredibly busy too, whatever he was doing.
And then he was selected for the Atlantis Expedition, and he hated the messy-haired chopper pilot who had the type of ATA gene expression Rodney would have killed for.
And then, one day, during a very dull meeting, Rodney turned his hand over and wrote a number and the eternal question: Prime/Not Prime? He wondered if their connection lasted across galaxies.
Across the conference table, Sheppard snorted and turned his hand over and picked up the pen he was supposed to be taking notes with and wrote, and ink appeared on Rodney's hand at the same time, Prime. You've used that number before.
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/707714.html?thread=93573506#t93573506
Rodney was convinced his future soulmate was some kind of closeted manwhore, because every Friday and Saturday night (and one baffling Tuesday night) all through grad school (when most ordinary peons would be in college), phone numbers appeared on Rodney's right hand, along with girls' names. They vanished fairly quickly afterward, like his future soulmate was washing them off, but if his future soulmate was attracting the likes of Trixie, Dixie, Roxie, and Candy, Rodney wanted a new soulmate, please.
He was slightly mollified when he saw the math formulas that appeared during what would be regular class hours. Whoever his future soulmate was, he was good at math (and Rodney wasn't much for subscribing to stereotypes, but his soulmate had fairly masculine-looking handwriting, and also Rodney was basically bi but mostly gay).
And then Rodney came up with a great idea. He and his soulmate could play a game. Prime/Not Prime. Rodney started, using a six-digit number. The response was rapid and, more importantly, correct. It was a great way to stay awake during boring lectures, even if Rodney looked like a victim of the worst tattoo artist at the end of it.
He would get nervous, sometimes, when his soulmate took a long time to respond. He was even more nervous when his soulmate's handwriting was shaky.
He was terrified when his soulmate didn't answer at all for weeks on end.
They never dared send real messages. What's your name? Where are you? What do you look like? Can we meet?
Just endless rounds of Prime/Not Prime. They upped the ante with Mersenne Primes. Penalized each other (with little frownie faces) for using a number that had already been played before.
One time Rodney woke in the night screaming with agonizing pain in his left shoulder. His soulmate had been shot.
The messages became few and far between when Rodney started working for the Stargate program, because he was incredibly busy, and his soulmate was incredibly busy too, whatever he was doing.
And then he was selected for the Atlantis Expedition, and he hated the messy-haired chopper pilot who had the type of ATA gene expression Rodney would have killed for.
And then, one day, during a very dull meeting, Rodney turned his hand over and wrote a number and the eternal question: Prime/Not Prime? He wondered if their connection lasted across galaxies.
Across the conference table, Sheppard snorted and turned his hand over and picked up the pen he was supposed to be taking notes with and wrote, and ink appeared on Rodney's hand at the same time, Prime. You've used that number before.
No. 35
Prompt: Stargate Multiverse, Any, trailer park AU
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/707714.html?thread=93516674#t93516674
The radio next to the bed went off. Elizabeth groaned and reached for it. “Go for Weir.”
“Ma’am.” It was Chuck. Why a trailer park had a neighborhood patrol Elizabeth couldn’t even begin to guess, but she didn’t want to get into it too much. She was too tired for that. “The Scientists are at it again.”
“If they’re making noise or noxious fumes call the cops, not me.”
“They’re making a bomb I think, ma’am.”
“Then call the cops!”
“Ma’am, I think you need to see this.”
Elizabeth groaned and hauled herself out of the bed. “Fine. Be right there.” She rolled out of bed and pulled on the cleanest clothes she could find.
Atlantis Park was the dumping ground for the government’s rejects. Cam Mitchell in Unit 1 had lost both his legs in a crash as a USAF test pilot. He spent most of his days knitting blankets and scarves and sweaters and reminiscing about the good old days. John Sheppard had also once been a USAF pilot, but he’d crashed a chopper or something in A-stan and been sent home. He didn’t like to talk about it, tended to hang out on the porch of his little trailer and play his guitar and occasionally have screaming phone calls with his ex-wife. Jack O’Neill’s ex-wife had made an appearance only once in his entire time at the park. They’d had a quiet conversation, and after she’d left, O’Neill had broken three years of sobriety by getting blind drunk off of Carson Beckett’s scotch, and these days he wasn’t around much, leaving at dawn to fish somewhere and coming back with no fish and lots of empty beer cans. He’d had a girlfriend for a while, a pretty woman named Samantha, but she hadn’t shown up recently. Daniel Jackson was a disgraced archaeologist who taught ESL out of his trailer to hordes of illegal immigrants. Once in a while he and O’Neill would play chess, but he didn’t seem to otherwise have friends. McKay said Daniel thought the pyramids had been built by aliens, and he’d been laughed out of academia.
McKay didn’t have much room to talk, because he was living in Atlantis too.
And apparently he and Zelenka were building bombs.
“False alarm,” McKay said when Elizabeth stomped over to the little fire pit McKay and Zelenka had set up between their trailers. “Not bombs. Just s’mores.”
They had graham crackers and chocolate bars and bags of giant marshamallows.
“But you can make bombs out of sugary things,” Zelenka said, and Rodney glared at him.
Chuck stepped out of the shadows, flanked by Sheppard and O’Neill and Jackson, and Mitchell wheeled in beside him, holding up a sign.
Happy Birthday Elizabeth!
And this...this was why she’d never go back to working for the UN.
http://comment-fic.livejournal.com/707714.html?thread=93516674#t93516674
The radio next to the bed went off. Elizabeth groaned and reached for it. “Go for Weir.”
“Ma’am.” It was Chuck. Why a trailer park had a neighborhood patrol Elizabeth couldn’t even begin to guess, but she didn’t want to get into it too much. She was too tired for that. “The Scientists are at it again.”
“If they’re making noise or noxious fumes call the cops, not me.”
“They’re making a bomb I think, ma’am.”
“Then call the cops!”
“Ma’am, I think you need to see this.”
Elizabeth groaned and hauled herself out of the bed. “Fine. Be right there.” She rolled out of bed and pulled on the cleanest clothes she could find.
Atlantis Park was the dumping ground for the government’s rejects. Cam Mitchell in Unit 1 had lost both his legs in a crash as a USAF test pilot. He spent most of his days knitting blankets and scarves and sweaters and reminiscing about the good old days. John Sheppard had also once been a USAF pilot, but he’d crashed a chopper or something in A-stan and been sent home. He didn’t like to talk about it, tended to hang out on the porch of his little trailer and play his guitar and occasionally have screaming phone calls with his ex-wife. Jack O’Neill’s ex-wife had made an appearance only once in his entire time at the park. They’d had a quiet conversation, and after she’d left, O’Neill had broken three years of sobriety by getting blind drunk off of Carson Beckett’s scotch, and these days he wasn’t around much, leaving at dawn to fish somewhere and coming back with no fish and lots of empty beer cans. He’d had a girlfriend for a while, a pretty woman named Samantha, but she hadn’t shown up recently. Daniel Jackson was a disgraced archaeologist who taught ESL out of his trailer to hordes of illegal immigrants. Once in a while he and O’Neill would play chess, but he didn’t seem to otherwise have friends. McKay said Daniel thought the pyramids had been built by aliens, and he’d been laughed out of academia.
McKay didn’t have much room to talk, because he was living in Atlantis too.
And apparently he and Zelenka were building bombs.
“False alarm,” McKay said when Elizabeth stomped over to the little fire pit McKay and Zelenka had set up between their trailers. “Not bombs. Just s’mores.”
They had graham crackers and chocolate bars and bags of giant marshamallows.
“But you can make bombs out of sugary things,” Zelenka said, and Rodney glared at him.
Chuck stepped out of the shadows, flanked by Sheppard and O’Neill and Jackson, and Mitchell wheeled in beside him, holding up a sign.
Happy Birthday Elizabeth!
And this...this was why she’d never go back to working for the UN.