Notes: I give up trying to write gen when Kara and Anders are concerned. Sigh. This was written on the prompt got off my fortune-teller thingie (it likes Lantis/BSG crossovers) "Liz Weir, Sam Anders, boom.
Spoilers: er... Lantis, none I can think of. BSG, post-Unfinished Business. I give up on titles.
The One With the Wraith and Pony Show by ALC Punk!
"I hope this works."
Sam Anders glanced at Dr. Elizabeth Weir and didn't respond. Answering her might give their position away, and he was hoping that wouldn't happen. Not just yet, anyway. His own hands were busy on another detonator--not that he has anything to actually use it on--the small store of C4 that Weir had been carrying was already exhausted. But it's something he could do while he waited. Sam was pretty good at waiting. The bomb they'd set an hour before should be going off soon.
There was silence between them. Out in the woods, Sam could hear the occasional movement. Toaster, Wraith or skinjob, it didn't matter. Anyone looking for them was a bad idea.
It was Sheppard's fault--or more accurately, his informant's fault that Dr. Weir and Sam were pinned down with no hope for escape. The planet was supposed to be safe, and the two of them--along with a contingent of marines who needed downtime--decided to explore it as a possible location for a new Beta Site. Or even as a place for the fleet to settle, for the time being.
Of course it went to hell in a handbasket.
Anders wasn't sure if the marines were still alive or not. The arrival of the Wraith had seen he and Weir ordered under cover. The last they'd glimpsed of Sergeant Hadrian, she'd been deploying her troops to take out the one dart that was inspecting the planet.
That was before the heavy raider had landed.
Now, Sam was a man who believed in contingency plans. And even though he'd been told to keep Dr. Weir safe, he couldn't quite escape the need to plan. And thus, he'd rigged one bomb and detonator from pieces of his and Dr. Weir's gear.
There'd been an argument over who would set the bomb, but Sam had won simply because he knew he was expendable.
Dr. Weir was not.
Setting the minute charge against the fuselage of the heavy raider was pretty pointless, but it was intended as a distraction only. Not that Anders wanted the cylons to have a clue about the gate network, but they had to radio for help somehow--and, as Sam had said, it wasn't like he could throw a rock or whistle and be heard back at the city.
It was just lucky there was a scheduled contact time so they could time everything properly.
They were settled near the gate. Close enough to send a radio signal, but far enough away that when it flared into life, they wouldn't be easy targets to the Wraith.
Annoyingly, the Wraith and the Cylons seemed to have some sort of agreement to leave each other alone. Though there'd been one altercation between a skinjob and an over-eager scout that had resulted in the scout's death. Otherwise, the two groups avoided each other.
It wasn't that Sam underestimated Dr. Weir, or thought she needed to be protected because she was a woman. If he thought that sort of crap (and quite a few of the members of the Atlantis expedition seemed to view women as delicate creatures, which made most of the Galactica and Fleet members laugh), his wife would have beaten it out of him long ago. She was just important, being the head of the Atlantis Expedition and the one in charge.
Sam wouldn't ever cross President Roslin, either.
Both women could eat him for breakfast, in the political arena. But in the guerilla tactics arena, he was king.
Really, Sam would be much happier doing nothing but playing pyramid, but life, and the Gods, seemed to like throwing obstacles in his path.
"Time," Weir murmured.
Sam's makeshift bomb exploded, sending birds shrieking into the air and centurions moving away from the stargate and towards their raider.
"Atlantis to the lazy--"
"This is Dr. Weir. Tell Colonel Sheppard we've got a situation: one Wraith dart, and a possible cylon baseship. I say again--" Something squealed from the radio and Elizabeth swore, twisting the sound down.
"Jamming." Sam supplied. He sighed. "And now they know we're here."
Without waiting for his direction, she pulled the pistol she'd been assigned and began moving out. Sam followed her, knowing that any objection would take time. Not to mention sound could alert their pursuers. Besides, he was pretty sure she was competent with her weapon--and, well, if they stayed where they were, they were sure to get found.
On the other hand, they could step out into a centurion patrol.
The sound of centurion guns clicking on made Sam move forward, shoving Weir to the ground and dropping on top of her.
No shots rang out, but an amused voice called, "Well, what have we here? Two rats in a maze."
Three. Sam gritted his teeth and stayed where he was, listening to Elizabeth Weir's breath quicken. Perhaps she wasn't exactly sure where they were.
A centurion suddenly uprooted one of the bushes in front of them. And Three called, "It's no use hiding. We saw you. Come out, or the centurions will simply fire until you're nothing but pulp."
Sam carefully climbed to his feet, hoping Weir would stay down. When she did, he stepped out past the centurion, arms out to his sides. "Fine. You got me."
"Well. Well, well, well." Three seemed almost happy to see him, "The great and powerful Samuel T. Anders. Caught like a little mouse. And Dr. Elizabeth Weir, of course," she called past Sam, "If you don't come out, my dear, I'll have him shot. I'm not certain where, of course. It might be a matter of random chance."
"Don't shoot." Elizabeth came out of hiding, moving to stand next to Sam. She shot him an apologetic glance.
"How interesting. Samuel Anders, the only member of the New Caprican resistance never taken in for questioning is caught on a backwater little planet in the middle of nowhere." Three was mocking him, her eyes cold.
"Hey, I was just a pyramid player."
"Oh, you sell yourself short. You were the conductor of an orchestra of violence that culminated in suicide bombings and the Cylons voluntarily leaving New Caprica."
Weir made a sound, and Three laughed, "You didn't know that, my dear?" She looked at Elizabeth with false sympathy, "I'm so sorry to burst your bubble. It appears Adama hasn't been exactly forthcoming with details of the atrocities his people have committed." She tsked. "Your knight in shining armor is rather tarnished."
"Hey. I don't remember the Cylons leaving because they were benevolent." Sam objected.
"Perhaps. Still, sending humans with bombs strapped to them? Such a dirty trick, in peacetime."
"You had hundreds locked in detention," Sam said, tone bitter. "What else were we to do, petition the government? The same one that signed the death warrants for four hundred people?"
"All you had to do was cooperate. Coexist peacefully--"
"You had my WIFE." Allowed to be angry about it now, Sam's voice echoed in the forest. When there were people at stake, he'd had to pretend, had to not care. Now? Now he was allowed to care.
"Ah, yes. Kara Thrace. Tell me, has she recovered from Leoben's little mind games, or is she still playing you false?" There was vicious laughter in Three's tone.
Sam clamped his lips closed on the things he wanted to say. His life wasn't her business.
Really, he'd expected this sort of thing from the cylons. He'd encountered Three and her ilk when he was a pyramid player. Journalists didn't care about your feelings, they simply wanted their story. And D'Anna Biers had been very good at digging out the sordid parts of peoples' lives.
What he didn't expect was for Elizabeth Weir to suddenly turn and tackle him back into the bushes.
Three apparently didn't, either. But she wasn't given time to deal with the matter as a missile flashed into life, exploding and taking out Three and most of the centurions. A second missile took out the rest.
Weir waited a moment, then picked herself up and looked around the devestated clearing. "Definitely not using this as a Beta Site."
A puddlejumper de-cloaked and landed in the now-empty clearing, the back opening. Sam pulled himself to his feet and followed her inside. "Probably not a good idea," he agreed absently.
"That was quick," Weir said as she stepped into the cockpit.
Colonel Sheppard looked back at them, lazy grin on his lips. It wasn't echoed in his eyes. "Well, you know, I was thinkin' of coming to join you. Have a picnic in the sun and all that."
"Did you bring wine?" asked Weir with an amused look.
Sam settled into the chair opposite her and listened as they rose into the air again.
An explosion from nearby made him glance at Sheppard.
"That was Starbuck and Lorne, taking care of the rest of the bad guys."
"Yeah. She kind of insisted on coming on the rescue--said she wanted the score even again."
Sam snorted and shook his head. Kara was an idiot. He still had a hell of a ways to go before he matched her rescuing his ass from Caprica. The retrieval from the detention center had, once she'd gotten on her feet, been under her own power. And if it hadn't been him, it would have been the resistance. As far as he was concerned, it didn't count. Now he owed her twice over.
They reached the other jumper shortly, and watched as it rose into the air, full of marines. It waggled back and forth, then shot upwards with a blithe disregard for gravity.
"Who's flying that?" Weir sounded disturbed.
"Kara," replied Sam, dead certain. There was only one pilot with that kind of flash in the air.
"Major Lorne was supposed to be the one in charge." Noted Sheppard, sounding amused.
"My wife," Sam said dryly, "Can be very persuasive."
"So I've noticed." Sheppard shook his head, "She's charmed half the marines out of their salaries without even trying. And that's not to mention--"
"Colonel," interrupted Weir, "Are we going directly back to Atlantis?"
"Nah. Thought we'd go by way of a couple planets, keep anyone from following us."
Something that had been bothering Sam made him ask,"Dr. Weir, there was no way to see the jumper. So, how'd you know Sheppard was there?"
"Well, when you work with someone, you build up a rapport over time that--"
"Eh." Sheppard interrupted with a smirk, "I was ogling her breasts."
"Yes." replied Weir dryly, "I noticed."
Ah. Sam blinked. Suddenly, certain things made sense. He considered, and nodded, "Yeah. Kara notices that, too. She glares if I've been staring too long."
The trip back to Atlantis was uneventful, and the jumpers landed in the bay, disgorging their contents of slightly dazed-by-Starbuck-marines along with Sam, Weir, and the rescue squads. Kara was in full Starbuck mode, trading mockery and jokes with Lorne as she swaggered, cigar (unlit, for the moment) in her mouth.
Sam decided he didn't care what mood she was in. He grabbed her from behind, jerking her into his arms. "Hey, baby, miss me?"
"Hell no." She replied, tipping her head back to stare at him.
A snort escaped Sam, and he raised his eyebrows, "That's sad. I missed you."
She rolled her eyes, "Good to know."
Uncertain, suddenly, Sam pulled back from her and shook his head. Obviously, she wasn't over her little flirtation--if she ever would be. And he wasn't even going to consider that. "Never mind. I should know better. How's the Major?"
"Apollo is just fine." She replied, voice quiet. Then she turned and glared. "You give up a lot easier, nowadays."
"Hey. I'm only human," he snapped, bitter. "I can't try to hang on without some sort of reason, Kara."
"Sex isn't enough?"
"Fine." Kara turned away from him.
"Five bucks," one of the marines said. "And she punches him."
Sam blinked. He realized that the entire bay had been watching their exchange avidly, and now the Galactica marines were laying bets? What the frak.
"Twenty credits," Kara yelled, turning and nailing them all with a look.
"What's the bet?"
"Sammy fraks that cute little Athosian." Her smirk firmly in place, Kara looked at him. "She's a hot little thing, all dark skin and muscles. You like 'em like that, doncha?"
Glaring, he started stalking towards her, "Kara."
"And another five that Ronon kicks his ass for even thinking about it." Kara called, backing away from him.
"I'll take that bet!" One of the more reckless marines called.
There were more bets exchanged, but Sam's focus narrowed to Kara, and the fact that she had nowhere to go. She seemed to realize this fact too late to do more than squeak when he trapped her against the jumper. "You," he informed her, still glaring, "are trouble."
"Yeah?" Kara stretched, arms sliding around his neck, "That's why you married me, though."
"No," he contradicted her, pressing her firmly against the jumper and refusing to bend. "I married you because I love you."
"Gods, you're a sappy bastard. Why don't you go spread sunshine and flowers to the Athosians or something?" But, surprisingly, she didn't release him and she didn't shove him away.
Sam took that as a good sign and shook his head. "Don't wanna."
"Ten quid says one of them brings up their marriage vows."
"We didn't say any," Sam replied without bothering to see who'd made the bet. Well, they had, just not the sort of vows the Lantians were used to.
"Does that count?"
"No." ruled a marine.
"I've got five on them showing off their tattoos."
Sam suddenly smirked, "Hey, baby, wanna show off our tattoos?"
"Depends which ones you mean, sugar-lips."
"I don't know," he bent his head, teasingly brushing her nose with his apparently sugary lips. "I can think of one..."
"And I can think of several, Sam." She patted his shoulder. "And you're not the only one who gets to see all of them."
That froze him. He pulled back and straightened. "Kara..."
"Hey." Her eyes serious as she looked up at him, she took her arms from his neck and tugged at her flight suit, pulling it down her left arm, exposing the stark black lines on her arm. "I could get rid of this now, you know. We both could. Dr. Beckett was quite interested in explaining methods of tattoo removal."
Sam could smell the tang of ozone at the back of his throat. Probably left over from the jumper's missiles. He stepped back from Kara. "Yeah. If you--"
"No." She moved with him, hands at his waist, "I don't."
It wasn't a promise. It wasn't a vow. It wasn't a damned thing. But Sam would take what he could get, from her. Because if there was one thing he knew about Kara Thrace it was that she ran from anything that meant emotional attachment. Including him.
"Good." She suddenly smirked, the Starbuck trademark back in full force. "Because I've just done some fantastic flying, and I could use a little sex to remove the edge, Sammy."
He snorted and turned her, letting her grab his hand and tug it over her shoulder. "Yeah? What makes you think I'll put out?"
"You're easy," she shot back, shoving the cigar back between her lips and waggling her eyebrows at him suggestively.
"So're you." Sam pointed out smugly.
"Anders," called Sheppard.
"Don't bother me, man." Letting a truly goofy grin cross his lips, Sam glanced back at the crowd, "I'm gonna go have sex with my wife."
His very hot, very willing, very scary as frak, wife.
Colonel Sheppard looked at Elizabeth Weir and raised his eyebrows, "Do you think we could have them do that every afternoon until the new football season starts?"
Her lips twitched, but she didn't laugh, "I'll ask Admiral Adama if he can make that part of his concessions," she suggested, eyes bright with amusement. "I'm sure he'll get a laugh out of it."
They watched the marines and Lorne's group discuss the departed couple, then slowly wander out of the jumper bay. It left the two of them in relative silence. Elizabeth let out a soft sigh and relaxed into that silence. Sheppard let her, knowing her moments of silence were few and far between. He busied himself with making sure all of the jumpers were settled for the time being, then came back to find her sitting on a ramp, idly toying with the pistol she'd had, just as a precaution.
"Y'know, I'm glad you know how to use that."
"Mmm." She didn't look at him, eyes focused elsewhere.
Sheppard reached out and pulled the leaf from her hair, the one that had been there since he'd picked her up. He'd left it there to amuse himself, and also to prove that she was as human as he was. "We should go. Get coffee."
"Yeah." Flicking the safety on, she stood in one fluid movement and holstered her weapon. "And I should probably turn this into the armory and start my report."
"Reports can wait." Telling himself this was perfectly allowed, John caught her elbow and tugged her out the door with him. "There's a perfectly nice cup of coffee in the cafeteria, just waiting for you to ruin it with sugar and cream."
She chuckled and relaxed again. "If you say so, Colonel."
"I do, Doctor."
They exchanged a grin and then Sheppard released her elbow and they continued on to the cafeteria.
Sam huffed out a breath and clutched Kara a little closer against him. "You know..." He trailed off, looking down at her almost as though he were memorizing every fleck of color in her eyes.
"You're such an ass," she informed him, just as breathless.
He laughed, deep in his chest and kissed her shoulder. "So what's our take?"
"Don't know," she paused to arch a little, gasping slightly when he nipped. "--didn't think to negotiate terms."
"Mmm." Sam got distracted with his mouth.
So did Kara, because his lips were moving so very slowly across her still-sensitive skin. She moaned a little and reached down to cup his ass. Sam made a sound of approval and rolled onto his side, pulling her leg over his and reaching between her legs.
"I'll have to ask the sergeant," she eventually murmured, now sprawled on his chest. "Ought to be a good haul, this time."
Sam brushed a hand through her damp hair and smirked, "Though it's less, thanks to your Teyla bet."
"Hey. It sounded like a good bet. Certainly better than 'I love you'." But her tone wasn't precisely mocking.
Sam kissed her, hard. "Yeah? And yet, you're still here."
Kara tried to wriggle free of the arms wrapped around her. Half-heartedly. "Don't know why, either."
He chuckled and kissed her again. "Good sex."
"Obviously." She closed her eyes.
Elizabeth was back to staring pensively into nothing, her fingers toying with the mug of coffee. Around them, the cafeteria was empty. Between duty shifts and meal times, the room sometimes echoed like a cavernous waste. Especially when people insisted on tapping absently at their coffee mug with one fingernail.
Finally, he broke the silence, "Penny for your thoughts?" It was lame, but the best he could come up with on short notice.
"I was just thinking about Anders and Thrace. Their relationship..." She shook her head, "I don't think I quite understand how it survives all of the drama."
"Maybe the drama is why it survives. Or the sex."
She essayed a half-smile at that and finally drank from her mug. Her lips twisted into a grimace. "Ugh. Cold."
"Well, if you'd drunk it right off, it wouldn't be." He pointed out mildly.
The smile disappeared, and she looked at him, eyes serious, "John. The cylon we met taunted Anders about the conduct of the fleet when they were on New Caprica. She said they'd used suicide bombers. And he didn't deny it."
"They were at war," he offered.
"Desperate times call for desperate measures?" She asked, tone almost sarcastic.
"In a way, yes. Elizabeth, sometimes, in a war, you do things that you don't ever want to. You don't know what you're capable of until you're pushed." With his training, with the mind set of the military, John Sheppard could understand the suicide bombings. He didn't like the idea, and he didn't condone it, but he could understand the necessity of it.
"Like blowing up Atlantis." Her reply was quiet and she set her mug down with a click.
A shiver went through her and she shook her head, "I think I need time to process this."
"Process what? Elizabeth, these are the same people they were this morning. You just know a little more about them."
"Well, yeah." He paused, then grinned, "Of course, you could find out they love cold coffee. Then we'd have to ban them from Atlantis."
The smile on her lips didn't reach her eyes, but it was a start. "I should go, work on our treaty notes and go over the SGC's recommendations."
"Or you could stay here and have hot coffee."
Now the smile was more genuine. She shook her head and stood. "I have too much work, Colonel. And you should probably go make sure Rodney isn't terrorizing poor Mr. Gaeta about Dr. Baltar's cylon detector anymore."
Yeah, he probably should. But a small part of him wondered what she'd think of the idea of doing as Anders and Thrace had. Sex in the middle of the afternoon, after all, could be very relaxing. John stood and didn't ask as he grabbed her mug. "See you at dinner?"
"Uh-huh." Her eyes were distant, mind obviously already mulling over the things she needed to work on.
"Don't work too hard, Elizabeth."
She gave him a distracted nod and left. He watched her go and then shrugged and took the mugs over to the bussing station, dumping her coffee down the drain. With a sudden grin, he headed off to Rodney's lab. Maybe he could annoy the scientist into doing something resembling work.