A Stargate Atlantis Fanfic
Tuesday, 24 July 2007
Timeline: ATL S3: Pre-'Sunday'; immediately following SG-1's 'Dominion' (S10) Warnings: Violence (—much), some adult language
Spoilers: ATL- Duet (small), The Long Goodbye (small); SG-1- Dominion
A/N: This is not a crossover; rather, it initially features scenes in the SGC before moving exclusively to Atlantis. I'm aware that the positions in the timeline don't exactly match up, but give me some leeway. The two shows never really match up anyways. Anyhow, the reader will benefit from having seen 'Dominion'; otherwise, there may be some confusion in the first few scenes.
It is worth noting that while this is a preview of the story, and involves many scenes from it, it is not identical material. It is instead, written fresh and with the sole purpose of being a teaser. Take that for what you will. :)
He could sense someone over top of him. He tried to crack his eyelids open, to see who this was who would come so close. The doctors had been cautious, never giving him an opportunity like this. He tensed in anticipation, knowing he would not waste this. Almost… almost…
In a split second he struck— the man never knew what hit him. His victim struggled for a moment, before he was able to overcome him. Simple. So simple. Even easier than the last.
Taking a few moments for himself, he now surveyed the room he was in, openly. The pretense of being wounded past sensibility had grown old, but it was all that had kept him from closer inspection. Now, he had the freedom to do as he wished, without scrutiny. As it was, he found this place uninteresting, and was eager to leave, before he aroused suspicion.
Taking one glance down at the form now laying beside him— they were coughing up blood— he grinned. Good riddance.
With that, he strode from the room, with none the wiser.
It took a moment, for the feeling to truly return to his limbs— the excruciating pain in his head distracted him from it long enough for him to fall on his face. McKay tried to catch himself, only to remember that his hands were bound, and instead, crashed unceremoniously to the floor.
Groaning, he tried to push himself up, trying not to whimper. Oh God, oh God, he kept repeating in his head. Everything that had gone wrong, everything because of him! How could he have let this happen? With shaking limbs, he held himself up off the floor, afraid that any moment now his arms would give out and he would be right back where he started. Whatever had been pumped through his system before, it had left him worst off, like he was coming down off a high. Trying to squelch that thought, McKay clenched his eyes shut.
Maybe that was why he suddenly noticed the choked sounds coming from Sheppard. Inhaling sharply, he looked up to see Sheppard, hands also secured with a zip-tie, but sitting on his knees. With macabre and terrified fascination, he watched Sheppard twitch a few times as he recovered from the trauma of it himself.
All of a sudden, Sheppard's eyes shot open, and immediately found McKay's. A sense of dread washed over the scientist at the expression on his teammates face. The knife! Suddenly remembering the KA-BAR sitting between them, he dove for it.
He didn't even see what hit him, only feeling something collide with the side of his face, snapping his head back, and sending him tumbling to the side. Once more in dazed agony, he didn't even try to get up, wondering through the fog of pain if his neck was broken.
A second intense blow suddenly impacted his stomach, and he let out a cry, doubling up on himself. Apparently not, he was able to think, trying to focus his eyes on the blurry figure standing over top of him.
Sheppard strolled out of the infirmary, pausing only to glance at Dr. Beckett as he went by. A half second later, he settled into long strides once more, thinking of all the places and possibilities open to him.
Actually… what was the rush? He had time for plans later, especially with McKay unconscious— and under suspicion. True, the responsibilities laid on him were heavy enough that, over time, it could be difficult to enact anything. But for now, his 'team' was grounded in Atlantis. A day or so would be enough, and he could use the time after for his work.
It was, perhaps, an hour later that found him in the gym with Teyla. In one lightning quick series of blows, Teyla attacked his shoulder and ribs—
And just as fast, Sheppard knocked them away, sending her weapons wide and using the opportunity to deliver a sharp jab of his own into her diaphragm. In a second, the woman was lurching forward, gasping for breath.
She could not recall the last time Sheppard had landed so painful a blow on her, and glanced upwards, seeing a slight smile on his face. "You okay? Didn't hit you too hard, did I?"
Teyla willed up a smile of her own. "No— I am well," she said, stretching back upwards, though the muscles in her abdomen tightened in protest. "You have been practicing," she commented.
He inclined his head towards her. "Had to get you back for all those training sessions one day. Ah," he said, waving one hand, "Don't worry about it, it was a lucky fluke."
"Perhaps," she said, settling back into another stance. "We shall have to continue, to be sure, then."
The smile on his face became a fully fledged grin. "If you insist."
Another round of blows was exchanged— Teyla spotted an opening where he left his side unprotected, where, were this a real fight, she could do some real damage. Normally, she would hold such a blow, just to give him an equal chance… however, she could still feel the tightness across her stomach, and darted in, landing the stick up under the edge of his ribcage.
To her astonishment, Sheppard didn't flinch to the side as she expected. The only sign that he had taken the blow was a short grunt that she had little time to register as he stepped in towards her, his own stick catching her across the shoulders.
Already off balance, Teyla found herself lurching again, only this time, Sheppard helped her along, and the world spun over her, until she landed flat— and hard— on her back. A shout of pain escaped her throat, and for a few seconds, she just laid there.
Sheppard's face appeared to eclipse the overhead light. "Guess it wasn't a fluke." His grin faltered a little though, as he seemed to sense her annoyance.
Pushing herself up, Teyla tried to will it away. He had landed a handful of blows on her— which meant he was improving. It was nothing to be angry about. So why did she find herself upset with him? "It was impressive," she finally admitted. "I might suggest you save some of your zeal for our enemies, however," she added, her voice slightly admonishing.
Sheppard seemed unfazed. "So… Ronon?"
Teyla's lips were pressed into a thin line, but there were hints of amusement in her expression. Secretly, she hoped that Ronon would knock Sheppard as flat as he had done to her. "Perhaps," she said.
The colonel gave her one last smile, before replacing his sticks from the container they had come from and departing the gym. The Athosian woman paused to watch him go, wondering what sat so ill at ease with her about their sparring practice— why did his cheerful attitude upset her like this? One of the same qualities that made her so like the colonel was now agitating her, more than mere begrudgement for the loss of the match. And yet, as she thought it over, she realized that Sheppard had not mentioned McKay once.
"Unscheduled off-world activation," the Gate-technician on duty announced over the PA. General Hank Landry moved to stand over his shoulder, watching the Stargate spin up.
The sergeant attending to the console took a moment, before turning to look up at the general. "It's Atlantis, sir."
"Atlantis?" he mused, his eyebrows knitting into an expression of confusion. He looked up, unconsciously counting the chevrons as they began to glow the familiar orange. Sure enough, eight were lit, as the vortex exploded outwards, pulling back into what appeared to be a large, blue pool of water, or similar. "About time."
"We're receiving one of their IDCs, sir."
Landry made a noise of slight amusement. The IDCs from Atlantis were a bit of a redundancy. The eight chevrons were a clue, and it wasn't as if there were many 'Gates in other galaxies that could reach Earth. However, in this circumstance, he wasn't sure it was redundant enough. "Atlantis," he said, leaning down to the radio microphone. "We were starting to get worried. SG-5 is standing—"
The voice that responded sounded panicked and harried. "Yeah, that's great and all, but we really don't have time for pleasantries!"
Landry exchanged a baffled look with Sergeant Harriman, before glancing back down at the Stargate. "Dr. McKay?"
"Yes," the voice said, sounding exasperated. It sounded as if he started to say something else, but an explosion cut him off.
"McKay! What's going on?" Landry demanded, gripping at the edge of the control console. In the background he could hear yelling.
"Shit, the shield's out! General!" McKay's voice broke through again. "We need you to close your iris!"
Harriman hesitated; "But the IDC—"
"Screw the IDC!!" Startled by the man's angry scream, the sergeant hastily slapped his hand onto the button that would close the iris. Those in the SGC's control room stopped what they were doing, momentarily distracted.
Harriman was the only one moving, as another signal appeared on the screen. Landry looked over again. "What is it?"
"It's the same IDC, sir," he replied softly.
Landry's eyes narrowed. "Someone's checking to see if the door is open."
The radio sprung to life again. In the background, people were still calling to one another.
"Where is it?"
"I don't know, it's invisible!"
"Someone get that shield back up! And make sure those doors stay locked!"
"Atlantis, what is your situation?" Landry demanded, all amiability gone from his voice.
"Hold that thought, we're kind've busy at the moment," McKay replied, and Landry grit his teeth.
Someone else rebuked the scientist before the general got the chance. "Rodney!" Then, louder, as if they had moved closer to the microphone, "General, this is Weir. It's not safe for you to accept any travelers from Atlantis just yet— or send any."
Landry frowned at that. "Dr. Weir, if there's a problem, SG-5 is ready to go."
"I'm afraid that wouldn't be much help," Weir said, sounding distracted. "We're currently—"
A second, much louder explosion drowned her out— this time, they could hear screams, both of fear and pain, and the crashes of debris, before abruptly, the radio cut out.
There was a second of silence before Landry shot Harriman a tense look. "Well? Get them back on the line!"
"I'm trying, sir," he said, his fingers working at the keyboard furiously for a moment, before he pulled his hands back, making a gesture of helplessness.
The general continued to stare at the technician, before turning his eyes to the 'Gate. A few seconds later, the connection gave out, and the blue light cast around the room disappeared. The iris began to automatically retract, and slowly, the technicians in the control room resumed their tasks, though with a notable air of anxiety.
All General Landry could do was to continue to watch the empty Stargate, and sigh.