Six Degrees of Transformation DVD Commentary*** This story was inspired by the TNG episode “Nth Degree” which I watched years and years ago and don’t really have a clear memory of. Instead of calling it a rip-off, let’s call it a homage, which is partly the reason of the “degrees” in the title. It’s one of those titles that I spent a long time pondering, but in the end one of the titles I’m most pleased with, because it contains both obvious stuff from the story and less obvious stuff. Any time I can be even the slightest bit symbolic is a huge accomplishment for me. ”Rodney,” John says slowly, patiently, carefully moving closer, “you have to get out of that thing.” Rodney smiles at him, crazily. “Why? This is the best thing that’s ever happened to us.” “It’s killing you,” he moves a little closer, “I don’t think that’s a good thing.” Rodney shakes his head, words tumbling over each other in his rush to say them. “Nononono, don’t you understand? This is just the beginning. When we get out of here, I could, I could build impenetrable defenses for Atlantis that wouldn’t require ZPMs. I could build weapons like you’ve never *imagined*.” His face is almost ecstatic. “I could destroy the Wraith.” “McKay,” John says through gritted teeth, more afraid for Rodney than he’s ever been before, “you’ll die.” Rodney tilts his head to the side. “No, Major. I’ll be immortal.” This was the very first thing I wrote, which is also a bit of an unusual thing for me. I never write a story in its natural progression and I seldom start a story at the beginning. More often than not I start a story with no idea how things will happen or *what* will happen, which is most likely why I have more WIPs on my hard drive than finished stories online. When it works for me, though, it’s so much *fun* I couldn’t do it any differently if I wanted to. This story was written in pretty much the same way as the very first scene; small snippets of indulgence on my part, just having fun with the drama and the dialog. It made the pacing a bitch, and I’m still not happy with the that, but I’ve never ever had so much fun writing something as this. So, stopping the happy writing gushing and going back to the story itself, I really had no idea what would happen in the rest of the fic once I’d finished writing this. But this snip made me want to find out, and *that’s* what’s fun about this story. I knew I wanted a megalomaniac!Rodney and a desperate!Shep, and that a chair would be involved, but beyond that, I was pretty clueless. It’s kinda neat that I finished this fic, actually. :D * Atlantis, 2100 hours (24 hours earlier) I actually dislike jumping back in time when other people do it, but I figure that it’s because I dislike the suspense, so I had double-standards and did it anyway.
“Not just another chair,” Rodney said eagerly. “A *different* chair,” Zelenka enthused, looking excited. Exposition is a big weakness of mine; I have trouble making it interesting. I figured my odds would increase a lot if I let both Zelenka and Rodney do it. Plus, I kind of have a crush on Zelenka. John studied it. “Different how?” Rodney made a face. “Well, we don’t know-“ “Yet,” Zelenka added. “-but we think that it could be something big.” It appeared slightly different, now that he looked more closely. Wires ran down the sides of it and the head-rest had a kind of shade attached to it. It also lacked the more decorative patterns that the Ancients seemed to love putting on everything. “It looks unfinished.” “Well, we think that the basics are done, but that they were adding functions to it. They probably went to Earth before they had time to finish it,” Zelenka said as Rodney punched something into the pad he was carrying. I’m trying to decide if you can really say “punch something into the pad” or if I was just talking out of my ass. Let’s go with the former. John quirked an eyebrow. “You two seem to ‘think’ a whole lot of things.” Basically, they’re as clueless as the author at this point. “Everything is a theory until you have facts to back it up, Major,” Rodney said in annoyance. “Give us a few hours and we’ll know what we’re dealing with.” “Okay,” John said agreeably. “Let me know if you find anything interesting.” “Yes, of course,” Rodney mumbled absently, turning his back to him. John rolled his eyes and walked out. * The dream sequences were added on pretty late in the process; they were a means to making the pacing better. To begin with, they weren’t meant to be very important plotwise, since being Ms Obvious, I’m not too fond of things that aren’t tangible, but then I decided to make the dreams just a little more than dreams, which made them much more interesting for me to write. It was the same dream he’d had for over a week. It was as it always was; he knew he was dreaming but that wasn’t enough to wake him up, no matter how much he tried. He looked up through the dark and misty world of water, looked up and longed for the sunlight he could see filtered through the cool mass swirling around him. Then he suddenly broke the surface, gasping in a lungful of air even though he’d had no trouble breathing underneath the water. He looked around frantically and there she was. He shouldn’t have been able to see all of her from where he was treading water, but somehow he did. She was magnificent, no lack of energy limiting her. She *glowed* where she lay on the surface and he knew that that he was seeing her in her full glory, the way she was *meant* to be. Then the change in him started. He could feel his limbs starting to stiffen even as he began swimming towards her, his lungs not accepting the air he inhaled, his heart ceasing to beat. He opened his mouth to scream, but his vocal cords had already turned into something else. He closed his eyes, trying to fight it, trying to breathe, move, shout; anything. When he opened his eyes again, he saw everything. The dreams were meant to be a subplot to begin with, but somehow got a life of their own and turned out to be more important than I’d expected. If I ever finish a sequel, they’d probably be even more important. * He woke up with a gasp and somehow it was reassuring. Gasping meant breathing; he was still himself. In the small moment between dream and consciousness he always expected to wake up and be different. Something else. He rubbed a hand across his face and turned on the lights with his mind. He reached for War and Peace on his bedside table, settling in to read the last hours before dawn. Yes, I fell for the War and Peace cliché, but to my defense, it wasn’t as used when I was writing it. Plus, nothing wrong with a cliché; this entire story is a big scifi one, after all. He always woke up at the same time and if the dreams hadn’t been freaking him out so much, that would have. As it was now, he opened the book and started reading page forty-five. At least he was keeping up with his schedule. * Atlantis, 0710 hours (13 hours and 50 minutes earlier)
Sheppard pulled the headphones down from his ears to his neck and smiled. “Grodin borrowed them to me.” Rodney’s eyes narrowed as he heard the tinny music faintly coming from them. He thoughtfully studied the Mp3 player lying on the table. “Is that ABBA?” It’s a cheap, cheap shot, but I couldn’t resist. The Major’s smile widened happily. “Yeah.” Rodney took a bite of his scrambled eggs. “Huh.” “Up all night?” The Major studied Rodney’s face and Rodney had an inane wish that he’d shaved before coming here. He took another bite of his breakfast, trying to look alert and not like he hadn’t slept in way too many hours. “What gave it away?” The Major’s smile seemed almost fond. “Your lack of scathing comments about ABBA.” “I like ABBA,” Rodney objected, not quite sighing in bliss as he took his first mouthful of coffee. The Major seemed surprised. “You do.” “Sure,” Rodney smiled. “Pretty blonde. Not short hair, but she didn’t need it. She was gorgeous anyway.” Major Sheppard smirked. “I bet you don’t even know her name.” Rodney didn’t stop smiling, nostalgia gripping him almost forcefully. “Of course I do. Agnetha. Such an exotic name.” He sighed. “My first crush.” I can’t believe I had them discuss ABBA. I blame my sister; it gave me an excuse to include her name. I make no excuses for being a geek. The Major rolled his eyes, but he still shut off the Mp3 player; to preserve batteries or in order to listen to Rodney, Rodney wasn’t sure. “What about you?” he asked. “What about me?” “You look like I feel,” Rodney said, taking a bite of his sandwich and trying not to be too obvious as he studied the Major’s tired face. The Major did usually look ridiculously relaxed, but his eyes were a little red and his smile seemed wan. The Major made a face. “Freaky dreams. I suspect yesterday’s dinner. Have you figured out the chair yet?” Rodney perked up. “It’s fascinating, we think that it, or something similar, was used to build large parts of the city.” Major Sheppard frowned. “They used a chair to build the city?” Momentarily forgetting about the food, Rodney put the sandwich down. “We still haven’t been able to translate the database we found about it, but we think that once they got the Atlantis main frame running, they constructed the chair and whoever sat in it got linked directly to Atlantis and possibly some sort of building drones.” “Then how come there aren’t any of those still around?” “Zelenka theorizes that they were all dispatched to the warships in the fight against the Wraith in order to speed up repairs, and,” Rodney added a bit reluctantly, “I think he could be right.” He couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it first. You can tell I’m just making this up as I go, right? I thought the building drones were a clever idea (and not at all a Farscape rip-off) and Rodney would so be peeved that he didn’t think of it before Zelenka. The Major looked interested. “So, can we use it? Does it still work?” “We haven’t got that far yet, we're just trying to figure out how it works so far. Funny you should bring that up, we were hoping we could get someone to sit in it.” Rodney looked expectantly at the Major and had to suppress the urge to smile winningly. God, he had it bad. Since when did he try and *ask* people to do things? That’s just bad. I should have downplayed the slash, since the story is pretty gen for a slashfic. “How flattering that you thought about me for your experimenting,” the Major said slowly, the gratitude seeming so genuine. Rodney shivered slightly. The sarcasm was just so *good*. Rodney smirked. “We have to use whatever talents you have.” Something glinted in the Major’s eyes and he leaned over the table towards Rodney. “Oh, you have no idea how talented I am, Rodney.” *groans* See previous comment. Rodney swallowed hard and tried to ignore the urge to rub his suddenly sweaty palms against his pants. “We’ll have to check with Elizabeth first, of course,” he babbled, “but I don’t think she’ll have a problem with this.” The Major tilted his head a little, still looking at Rodney with that look in his eyes, a strange little smile at the corners of his mouth. Then he nodded and leaned back again. “Let’s go talk to Dr Weir then.” Rodney carefully let out the breath he’d been holding and gulped down the last of his coffee before they stood and prepared to leave. * Atlantis, 0830 (12 hours and 30 minutes earlier)
This is the best and worst thing about this story. Using the time markers allowed me to skip the scenes that I didn’t find interesting enough to *make* interesting, in this case the briefing with Elizabeth which would only repeat what we’ve already been told. On the other hand, it made the pacing a nightmare. My betas assured me that they didn’t find it that way, but I found it really jumpy. To me it felt like the time markers took away the flow I expect in a longer, plottier story, where you’re supposed to let things be more detailed, where you’re supposed to take your time, let the story unfold. I just haven’t got the skill to make mundane scenes interesting, so whether I liked it or not, the time markers made the story better than it otherwise would have been. Rodney didn’t look convinced. “It’ll take me no time at all to translate more of the database, enough for Elizabeth to be satisfied of its safety, and then you’ll be off on the mainland, watching potatoes grow.” John rolled his eyes. “It’s just a drop-off of some supplies.” Rodney didn’t reply, he just let out an annoyed burst of breath. The uncommon lack of a snappy retort made John look closer at him. He looked tired, lines around his eyes deep with fatigue and more than a hint of darkness beneath them. “This is really important to you, isn’t it?” Rodney looked unimpressed. “Whatever gave you that strange idea, Major? Oh, maybe the fact that this might be the best chance of defeating the Wraith that we’ve had so far and it’s right under our *noses*?” “Well, the Ancients had it as well, and they didn’t do so good,” John pointed out. “They were under constant attack, the Wraith destroying anything new almost the moment it was completed. We need to do something now *before* we’re under attack.” They stopped in front of the doors to the jumper bay. “I see your point,” John said. “Oh, thank you, Major, now I can die a happy man.” Rodney almost smiled. John grinned back at him before sobering. “But I see Dr Weir’s point, too. We really should make sure we know what we’re doing before trying that thing. Knowledge is power.” “Fine, fine,” Rodney waved his hands and turned to leave, “go run your milk errand and I’ll save Atlantis. Say ‘hi’ to the potatoes for me,” he said over his shoulder. John shook his head, but he was still smiling as he walked into his puddle jumper. * Atlantis, 0915 (11 hours and 45 minutes earlier)
Radek rubbed his neck tiredly. “That sounds like a good plan.” Rodney looked at him. “What have you got so far?” "Well, so far 'the chair on which the great city was built is mighty'.” He looked thoughtful. “Or 'the city has a chair which is mighty great'." This is where I tell you how much I love Danvers. I sent her a mail at this point. “Hey, I need a word joke, kinda like the Daniel’s “’place of our legacy’…or it could mean a ‘a piece of our leg’, but the first one seems to make more sense.” She sent me several suggestions and the ‘mighty great’ one was the one I picked. I love knowing people who can come up with better jokes than me. Rodney rolled his eyes. "Well, I think we can disregard the last one since John Wayne probably didn't have a hand in building Atlantis." Radek nodded. "The way he walked, I am not sure he could swim." "All the riding," Rodney said, nodding sagely. Zelenka looked skeptical. "Of course." Rodney closed his laptop. “This is going nowhere. I propose we pick the chair to pieces and figure it out that way.” “Here here,” Zelenka said fervently, closing his own laptop. “Perhaps we should give the database to Dr. Harris.” Rodney shrugged. “Sure, she can probably make more sense of it, once she gets past that ‘look at that verb, that’s beautiful’ phase.” He pulled open a console at the side of the chair and studied the crystals inside. “You give it to her, though.” Zelenka squatted down on the opposite side of the chair, opening a console of his own. “The last time she spoke to me she was going on about Shakespeare and how she’d love to give me English lessons.” He peered at Rodney over the armrest. “Do you think my English is bad?” “Please,” Rodney snorted, “your English is better than the English of all the Americans combined.” My way of showing that Rodney and Zelenka are really good friends. Yes, despite Fumbles McStupid. ;) Radek smiled and pulled out a crystal. They worked in silence for several minutes before Zelenka said, “It’s been very quiet lately.” Rodney didn’t look up. “What has?” “Things. You know, no viruses, no alien clouds, no Genii. Quiet.” Rodney looked up. “Huh.” “What?” “That probably means something will happen soon.” “Why do you say that?” “Um, Atlantis? Galaxy filled with life-sucking aliens? When is it ever quiet here?” Zelenka made a face. “Good point.” “Not so good, really,” Rodney muttered and pulled out another crystal. “No, I suppose not,” Zelenka agreed and went back to work. * Atlantis mainland, 0955 (11 hours and 5 minutes earlier)
She smiled at him. “Then I am certain you will find the actual ceremony even more interesting.” “That wasn’t the wedding ceremony?” he asked warily. “No,” she said, “that was just the celebration before the wedding.” “Wow,” John said, impressed. “Yes, then I’ll definitely find the ceremony interesting. They were very…hyper.” Her smile was a little sad. “The cause for celebration is so rare. Every opportunity is a cherished one.” He studied her. “Do you miss it?” She looked at him in surprise. “They are my people,” she said with a nod, as if that answered everything. “You know,” he said slowly, looking down and adjusting his radio which didn’t need adjusting, “you could spend more time on the mainland. I mean, if you want to.” “Atlantis is where I can be of more use,” she said, calm and matter-of-fact. He looked at her. “Well, Atlantis isn’t exactly boring, but we don’t have parties like your people do.” She smiled again, the sadness fading away. “I am not so sure of that. The Atlanteans are quite amusing when they have consumed some quantity of alcohol.” “Thank you,” he said, overly sincerely, and her smile widened. “Also,” she added, “perhaps Atlantis has become home too.” “I’m glad,” he said softly. “Now, Major” she said as they stopped outside the jumper, “perhaps you will allow Sergeant Stackhouse to fly home so that you can rest.” He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. “I look that bad?” “I would not say bad,” she said diplomatically, which meant that most likely he looked like a mess, “but you seem as though you could use some sleep.” He shook his head ruefully. I’m still not happy with this scene. I wanted some Shep/Teyla interaction, but this feels too much like a filler to me. I like certain lines (the ones my betas fixed…), but the whole scene kind of makes me cringe. It feels too unpolished. * Atlantis, 1002 (10 hours and 58 minutes earlier)
Zelenka didn’t look up from his laptop. “Dr Weir told us not to.” “Yeah, but if we just do it, there’s not a lot she can do about it, is there?” Radek looked at him, eyes narrowed. “Which is probably why she told us not to, so that we wouldn’t.” Rodney shook his head in frustration. “Why are you so impatient about this, Rodney?” “Because we’re wasting time,” he snapped. “We should be using this, making things, building a defense. Time isn’t exactly something we have a lot of.” Radek nodded. “And if we do not know how to use it, would not that also be a waste of time?” Rodney started pacing, waving away Radek’s words. “Someone could learn by using it while someone else continued to study it.” He could feel Radek’s thoughtful eyes on him as he paced, but the other man didn’t say anything. Finally Rodney turned to him, snapping, “What?” “I am just trying to pinpoint the exact moment you turned irrational.” * It was the same dream, which he supposed was a good thing as it meant that at least he was sleeping. He tried looking around instead of up, despite the unpleasant feeling that something else might come towards him through the dark water, but it wasn’t long before his head turned upwards again. He gasped in air as he broke the surface and marveled over Atlantis’ beauty as she shone like a diamond. Catching movement in the corner of his eye, he frowned. The dream wasn’t supposed to change. It never changed. He turned his head away from Atlantis and half expected to see a giant shark coming towards him, ploughing through the water with its ugly mouth opening to devour him. If I was in the middle of an ocean of unknown depth, that is so what I would be expecting. Brrrrr. Instead he saw that something was floating at the surface of the ocean. His eyes widened. It was a body, floating face down. Dum duh duuuuuuuuuuh. * Atlantis, 1005 (10 hours and 55 minutes earlier)
“You’re making up reasons for doing something and acting like they make perfect sense; I think that counts as irrational.” “They *do* make sense, you’re the irrational one.” Radek looked concerned. “Are you alright, Rodney?” “Apparently not, seeing as I’m *irrational*.” “Rodney…” “Fine, I’ll prove it to you!” And he sat down in the chair. * Puddle jumper 3, 1005 (10 hours and 55 minutes earlier)
Stackhouse looked alarmed. “Sir?” “Do it. I’ll explain later.” With that he hailed Atlantis. These few of scenes feel so rushed to me. As I said, still not happy with the pacing. On the other hand, you’re supposed to feel things speeding up. *undecided* * Atlantis, 1020 (10 hours and 40 minutes earlier)
Rodney looked impatient. “It went fine, didn’t it?” The chair was glowing blue, the light pulsing slightly. John had to admit that things seemed to be going fine, but he couldn't shake the feeling of dread he'd had ever since he'd woken up. As he’d hailed Atlantis, he’d known the moment Dr Weir’s voice came through the speakers, tight with anger, he’d just *known* that Rodney had sat down in the chair, the arrogant idiot. Dr Weir told him that Dr Zelenka had raised the alarm straight away and that Dr Beckett was there right now. She didn’t have to say it, but he knew that she hadn’t gone there yet. Her philosophy was that not a lot of good things came out of anger, and he was willing to bet that she was pretty pissed off at the moment. I was trying to make up a reason for Elizabeth not to be there, when she obviously would have been. I just had too many main characters in one place as it was. “How did you know, Major?” Teyla had asked as Atlantis grew larger in their sights. He remembered the dream, remembered Atlantis, remembered the feeling of longing he’d felt even through the panic of his transformation. The body floating next to him in the water. “Just a hunch, I guess,” he’d lied. I like this, because it’s the first real hint that John’s not just dreaming. Now, Zelenka was sitting on a box next to John, tapping on his laptop, face closed off. John had a feeling Rodney hadn’t consulted him either before activating the chair. Ford was standing at the door, looking carefully blank and Teyla was seated on another box across the room, studying Rodney. Dr Beckett had attached some electrodes to Rodney’s forehead and was looking at readings on machines John wasn’t entirely certain how he’d gotten all the way over here. “Hey,” John frowned, looking at the crystals lying next to the chair and the wires hanging out of open consoles, “are you sure it’s working the way it’s supposed to? You removed stuff.” “As we don’t know how it *is* supposed to work,” Dr Zelenka said frostily, glaring at Rodney, “it is difficult to say, Major.” “Fine,” Rodney snapped, “I’ll show you.” Again with the rushed pacing. *sigh* The lights in the room went out, except for the chair, which still glowed. The blue light that shone around Rodney made his face look sickly. I read Salieri’s commentary for Owl Eyes where she was talking about showing how characters felt by describing lights and physical objects (objective correlative) and making them symbolize that. I doubt I had anything that clever in mind, but making Rodney’s face look sickly in the light is certainly a way of showing that the chair isn’t good news, adding to Shep’s feeling of dread. “I’m sorry I ever doubted you, Rodney,” John drawled, the uncomfortable feeling he couldn’t put his finger on growing, “turning off the lights is very impressive.” “Shut up, I’m trying to work here,” Rodney said tightly, closing his eyes. “I needed the power for something else.” “Major,” Dr Weir’s voice came over the radio, “what’s going on? We’re detecting activity at the Northern pier.” Rodney’s forehead creased in concentration and John frowned. “What kind of activity?” “Something dropped into the water and it seems as though it’s bringing something back.” “Need some material,” Rodney muttered, not opening his eyes. “Stand by, Dr Weir. Rodney,” John said carefully, “what are you doing?” “Making you understand why the chair is important.” His eyes snapped open. “There.” The lights went on again. Rodney frowned. “The process shouldn’t take up as much energy as obtaining the material did, but I think I’ll make some sun cells just in case, so that we don’t use more power than we have.” “Rodney,” John snapped and Rodney’s eyes moved to his. “What did you do?” Rodney beamed at him. “The ocean floor is covered with a kind of metal alloy. I’m building you a canon, Major.” * Atlantis, 1340 (7 hours and 20 minutes earlier)
"I'm not hovering," John denied, wondering how Rodney could know that when his eyes were closed and he was controlling things all over Atlantis. It had been more than three hours since Rodney had sat in the chair. In that time, he'd finished some sort of energy canon that had almost made Ford come in his pants, manufactured solar cells (that alloy at the bottom of the ocean sure was handy) as well as several power banks where the solar energy could be stored. Yes, that alloy sure was handy. Shuddup, it was a handy plot device. Rodney had admitted that the energy levels of Atlantis were now below what they called normal, but if the next few weeks were sunny, they'd pretty much be back to their former levels. I angsted so much over Atlantis energy levels. I didn’t want the chair to be able to reload the energy too fast, since that would mean it’d be the next best thing after a ZPM, but I also didn’t want Rodney to drain it all, since that would make the chair more trouble than it was worth. He'd seemed guilty over the fact that they wouldn't be able to replace the ZPMs, but had brightened a bit before announcing that at least it'd mean that they could move around the city a lot more without having to constantly worry about the energy levels. Yes, John was possibly somewhat intimidated. Three *hours* and Rodney had made them a weapon *and* an alternative energy source. It almost seemed too good to be true and nothing made John more nervous than things that seemed too good to be true. “Well, could you do your non-hovering somewhere else?” “No, I’m good.” Rodney let out a long suffering breath. * Atlantis, 1430 (6 hours and 30 minutes earlier)
He released a breath and watched white smoke form in front of his face. He blinked as a snowflake caught in one of his eyelashes and he looked over at Grodin. "We first noticed it when Lab 3 started getting blasts of freezing air through the ventilation system," Grodin said, rubbing his right arm absently while looking at some readings on his pad. "Fortunately, this station only modulates a small part of the city." "Like Lab 3," John drawled, regretting that Kavanagh worked in Lab 4. "Yes." "But why is it snowing?" Ford asked. "I mean, I get that it's gotten colder, but where is the water coming from?" "It's the condensation," Grodin explained. "The room recycles air and regulates the temperature, which means that the air that comes in here occasionally has to release water as colder air can't carry as much moisture. So, when the temperature dropped to subzero levels..." Ford nodded. "It started snowing. Neat." Grodin smiled briefly at that. "Well, yes. Unfortunately, we don't know what caused it. It would be considerably less neat if this turned out to be an occurrence all over Atlantis." "Yeah," John mumbled, staring at the flakes that were leisurely making their way down from the ceiling and piling up on the floor. I remember writing this so well. I was away from home, sitting with my notebook at my sis’ couch, pondering what kind of filler I was going to write, and there was a snowing outside, these big, beautiful flakes coming down. It was surprisingly easy to make it snow inside Atlantis. * Atlantis, 1450 (6 hours and 10 minutes earlier)
“Of course not. You just made it snow inside Atlantis without noticing it.” Rodney glared at him. “Didn’t we have this conversation already? About me not being Superman?” “As far as I know, there has yet to be anyone to make that claim, Rodney.” “Fine. I’m sorry I made it snow. Next time, I’ll wait till Christmas.” “I don’t care about the snow. I’m just saying that next time it might be something bigger than snow.” “You’re overreacting. It’s my first time, I think I’m allowed some kind of margin for error.” “You’re admitting you made a mistake?” John frowned. “Who are you and what did you do to Rodney?” “Har har,” Rodney said, closing his eyes. “Now shoo. Very busy man, here.” “I swear to god, Rodney, if I find hail in my room, I’m kicking your ass.” “Oh, I’m so scared. Why are you still here?” John shook his head and went to get a sandwich. He’d noticed that Rodney was easier on his nerves when John had eaten something. At this rate, he’d need a smorgasbord. I needed things to escalate, but not enough for John to bodily drag Rodney away. * Atlantis, 1600 (5 hours earlier)
“Yes,” Beckett said in that dry tone he seemed to reserve especially for Rodney. “Very advanced. Your very advanced brain usually doesn’t give off these readings, though.” John frowned. “Is he in any danger?” “Not at the moment, but the readings weren’t this high a few hours ago. If they continue to rise, he might be.” “So tell me when they start getting dangerous,” Rodney said impatiently. “It’s not like a break would kill you,” John said. “You could grab something to eat. The chair will still be here.” Rodney waved away his objections. “You brought me a sandwich, I’ll be fine.” To the reader (and it should have been to the characters too), this is where you know something is really up, because Rodney is ignoring something that might be wrong with his health. “Yeah,” John said, “because you’re always full after one sandwich.” “He’s right, Rodney,” Zelenka agreed. “You should take a break. We won’t get anywhere if you wear yourself down on the first try.” Rodney frowned, looking pained for a moment and warning bells started ringing in John’s head. Then his expression cleared and he looked like his normal patronizing self. “Fine. One more hour and I'll go." As I mentioned, I’m not exactly ms Subtle. *hides* Carson eyed Rodney suspiciously. "We're serious, Rodney. You don't get out of that chair soon, you can forget about anyone bringing you coffee or food. You can bloody well eat the chair if you get hungry." John nodded in agreement. "What he said." Rodney looked troubled. "Okay, give me another half an hour then. In the meantime, you think one of you could bring me a coffee? A Powerbar maybe?" Carson turned around and left, Rodney giving John an imploring look. John folded his arms across his chest, not budging from the spot. Rodney patted down the front of his jacket, then reached inside, pulling out a Powerbar, holding it up for John and Zelenka to see. John rolled his eyes and left, wondering exactly how many more of those things Rodney had on him. * Atlantis, 1700 (4 hours earlier) Finally, things start happening. Fillers are all well and good, but my fillers feel like…well, fillers. “This may hurt a little.” The arrogant little shit. John resisted the urge to punch a wall as Zelenka opened the console next to the locked door, two corridors away from the chair room. He should have dragged the back-stabbing bastard out of the chair the moment he’d gotten back to Atlantis. “Well?” he asked, fighting for patience. “Trust me, Major, this will be much easier if I actually get a chance to review the situation,” Zelenka said patiently, but John could hear the strain in his voice. John nodded reluctantly. “Sorry.” Dr Weir turned the corner of the corridor and walked quickly towards them. “Any progress?” “Zelenka’s just gotten started.” She nodded and eyed the three of them. “Are you alright?” “I’m fine,” John said, ignoring his aching body. Zelenka waved his hand at her without turning away from the console, which John guessed meant that he was fine too. “Doctor?” She turned to Beckett, who was leaning against the wall next to John, looking a little pale. “I have a headache, but nothing fatal.” “How did Rodney manage to active the transporters when you weren’t even close to them?” A flashback in the flashback. Heh. //”Rodney, don’t be an idiot,” Beckett snapped. “You need to get out of the chair. If those readings are correct, the interface could damage your brain.” “You’re being overly cautious,” Rodney said. “Rodney.” John’s words were clipped and hard. “If you don’t get out of the chair right now, I’ll carry you.” Rodney looked him over, eyes traveling up and down his body. “I have full confidence in your physical fitness, Major, but I doubt you’d manage that.” Megalomaniac!Rodney is so flirting with Shep. John smiled tightly. “Well, I guess we’ll find out now, won’t we?” “Why are you being so stubborn about this, Rodney?” Zelenka asked. “You may be arrogant, but you’re not stupid.” Rodney snorted. “Thank you, Radek, that warms my heart.” John had had enough. He strode towards the chair, only a few steps away when his nose smacked into something hard. “What the…?” When Suz read this, she went, “Oh! So ‘Divide and Conquer’”. She’s still a dirty little shipper at heart. :D A field shimmered in front of him before disappearing. He lifted his hand and slowly pushed it in front of his face. The air shimmered again, a glowing blue, and he was really starting to hate that color. He pushed harder, but it was no use. It was like trying to press through a solid wall. He looked to his sides to see Beckett and Zelenka in similar situations; Beckett was experimentally tapping the field in front of him while Zelenka was staring at Rodney in incredulity. Rodney looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, but you’re getting in the way. If I can’t convince you, I’ll just show you how important this is.” Rodney might be slightly nuts, but he’s still doing what he thinks is best for them, and the tricky part is that he isn’t wrong. “What the hell are you playing at, Rodney?” John said, dangerously soft. “Let us out.” “No.” He closed his eyes and his forehead creased deeply. “This may hurt a little.”// “Apparently the transporters aren’t as stationary as we thought,” John said, rubbing his forehead, anger running out of him to be replaced by weariness. “The transporters probably worked anywhere in Atlantis before,” Zelenka said, back turned to them as he worked. “Having stationary ones were most likely a way to preserve power.” Yes, I’m still making stuff up as I go. It could have been possible! “Handy that Rodney should know that,” Beckett muttered. “He didn’t,” John said with conviction. He’d heard more than one rant from Rodney about the waste of having transporters so sparsely spread over the city. “Not before he sat in that chair.” “He doesn’t seem very concerned with conserving power,” Dr Weir said, looking troubled. John looked thoughtfully at her. “No.” “He’s up to something,” Beckett said, pushing away from the wall. “Well, I plan to be in on anything he's up to,” Dr Weir said firmly. “Get him out of there, gentlemen.” John made a face. “I doubt we’ll be of much use to Dr Zelenka.” “Do not put yourself down, Major.” Zelenka turned to look at them. “It seems I’m in need of an errand-boy.” John’s eyebrows rose. “Oh joy.” * Atlantis, power station 1740 (3 hours and 20 minutes earlier) This scene is all Danvers’ doing. I swear, every time I was at a loss, she would come up with a cool idea. “Are you at the power station, Major?” Zelenka’s voice crackled through the radio. “I’m here. What do you want me to do?” “They’re sending you to do this? My, you must be really desperate.” John spun around and stared at Rodney, who was standing just a few feet away. “Rodney?” “Major?” “Hang on, Zelenka.” His eyes didn’t leave Rodney as he closed the channel. “How the hell..?” I’m not sure why Shep turned off the radio, but writing-wise it would have been awkward having Zelenka listen in. Rodney smiled in excitement. “Yes, amazing, isn't it? The interface actually allows me to project a virtual image of myself so I can communicate with anyone.” John took a step forward and stretched out his hand. Rodney watched in interest as it moved right through his chest. John pressed his lips together hard. “Too bad it's virtual. I was thinking about punching your lights out.” Rodney tsked. “Now, Major, that's no way to talk to the man who's saving Atlantis.” John stared intently at him and wished that it was the *real* Rodney standing in front of him. Somehow, he couldn’t read the hologram at all. “And exactly how are you saving Atlantis, Rodney?” “You really want to know?” “I wouldn't be asking if I didn't.” Rodney took a deep breath and looked as though he was bracing himself. John was vaguely amazed that he seemed nervous when he so obviously had the upper hand. “Okay. Imagine if the Wraith came here…and there was no city.” He started smiling. “Imagine if we could *move* the city.” I just love the idea of Rodney totally having the advantage, the (currently) unthreatened position, but instead of being smug, he’s more concerned about having Shep on his side, of convincing him. Oh, Rodney. John frowned. “You mean submerging it again?” Nel:
Hey, wouldn’t it be cool if Rodney’s big plan was making Atlantis
fly? Rodney shook his head. “No. I mean moving it to a different planet altogether.” His first thought was that Rodney had finally lost his mind. His second thought that it was the chair’s fault and damn it, *he* should have been the one sitting in it, not Rodney. "And the reason the Ancients didn't do this is...?" Shep is such a guilt-tripper. “They did, remember? They moved it from Earth to Pegasus and before they could move again it was probably too late.” His expression went from intent to slightly crazed. “But I know how to do it. I can *see* it all. It’s so *simple*. This city can fly, Major. It's time we tried it.” At some point in the show, this has to happen. I can’t *wait*. John was silent for a long time. He was talking to Rodney, something they hadn’t been able to since he, literally, threw them out of the chair room. This might be his only chance to get Rodney out of there. “Okay.” Is it still ‘literally’ if he beamed them out? Rodney looked surprised. “Okay?” John nodded. “Okay. As soon as you get out of the chair and make it safer to use.” Rodney sighed and looked superior. It actually made John feel a little better. “I don't think you fully grasp the severity of our situation, Major. The Wraith are on their way and they're not going to slow down just so we can understand the chair better. We have to do this now. Before it's too late.” Rodney isn’t really nuts, he’s just…totally unconcerned with his own safety. Which, to Rodney, would be the same thing as being nuts, I suppose. “You've been obsessed with the chair since before you even knew what it could do,” John said slowly, eyes narrowing. “Something isn't right here, Rodney, you have to see that.” John thinks something fishy is afoot there, but I think that Rodney sat in the chair for the very same reason he went back to that planet to make the weapon work in Trinity. Rodney tilted his head to the side. “You wouldn't say that if you were in the chair.” Of course, Rodney’s motivation has changed since he sat down. John took a step closer, and had Rodney actually been in the same room, there would only have been a foot of air between them, if that. “Look me in the eye and tell me that you wouldn't have broken into the chair room and dragged me out by now, had our positions been reversed.” Every time I read the paragraph, I’m distracted by that foot of air. A foot of air is lots of space! We should be talking inches. Rodney’s mouth twisted. “That's hardly a fair comparison. All you have is the gene. I can make the chair work. I can make it do what it was built for. It's a little harder than just opening doors or turning on lights, Major.” John shook his head and gave a little laugh. “That you or the chair, Rodney?” “This is pointless. Stop trying to get into the chair room. Even if it was possible for you to bypass the system, you wouldn’t have enough time. I’m making Atlantis fly whether you like it or not.” The image of Rodney flickered and disappeared. John cursed and spun around, slamming his hand against the wall. He gritted his teeth and took a deep breath before clicking on his radio. “Dr Weir. We have another problem.” * Atlantis, 1825 (2 hours and 35 minutes earlier)
“You are not concentrating,” Teyla said, flicking hair out of her eyes with a snap of her neck, a sheen of sweat on her face. “Sure I am.” He proved it by slamming his sticks against her faster than he’d known he was able to. He was proud of himself for a full second before she easily got beneath his defenses and hit his left side. He swallowed a curse and gritted his teeth as his ribs ached. “Perhaps this is not a good idea right now,” Teyla said, lowering her sticks slightly. “It’s a very good idea.” It was. When being thrown out for being in someone’s way and rendered useless, John couldn’t think of anything better than hitting something. It felt safest doing it with Teyla; they didn’t have any punching bags and he knew he couldn’t hurt her. Not with sticks, anyway. The circled each other, the floor beneath their feet sending vibrations through John’s body. Atlantis had started shaking shortly after Rodney’s “appearance”. At first, it had been nothing but a small ripple in the coffee cup on Dr Weir’s office. I was so thinking about the water glass in Jurassic Park. Soon, though, they could feel it; steady and increasing tremors in the floor and walls around them. Zelenka had thought that Rodney needed to power up Atlantis before he could try and lift her. He wasn’t sure how Rodney would acquire all the power he needed, but knowing Rodney, *he* was certain that the power would be enough. Of course, normally Rodney wasn’t rendered mad by an Ancient-made chair, but something told John that even mad, Rodney’s calculations wouldn’t be wrong. At least not when it came to Atlantis. He seemed less concerned with himself, which told John everything about his state of mind. He knew enough to know that Rodney had the guts when they were needed, but he was a long way from a martyr. Teyla studied him thoughtfully then nodded. “It is good to think of something else, even if it is just for a short while.” This was what John liked about Teyla; her ability to get to the heart of the matter. He hadn’t seen a lot of her in the last few hours; him running errands for Zelenka, her accompanying Ford in patrolling the city, making sure that the things Rodney had set in motion weren’t doing anything hinky. It was good to have her company. “We’ll get him back,” John said firmly, sounding surer than he felt. She nodded. “We will.” He drew strength from the certainty of her voice. “Good. Let’s get back to you kicking my ass.” I suppose this is a filler too, but I really like this scene. I’ve always enjoyed the Shep/Teyla fighting scenes, and while I’m not exactly portraying the stunning choreography the show does, but I think this is the best way I could show that Teyla worries too. I’m not denying how McShep centered this story is, but they’re still a team, and they all worry about each other. * Atlantis, 1905 (1 hour and 55 minutes earlier)
“Makes you feel kind of useless, doesn’t it?” Ford observed, his shoulders tense even as he was standing at ease. John shrugged. “I would be more worried if it was our expertise that was needed in the end.” Ford looked unconvinced. “I don’t know, sir. A few well-placed charges…” “And Rodney would probably erect a force field.” Ford nodded. “That does sound likely.” He looked at John dryly. “He’s a real pain.” John couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, yes he is, Lieutenant.” “It’s weird, though. That he’s not the one saving the day.” “Well,” John scratched his neck, “he *thinks* he’s saving the day.” Ford made a face. “Yeah. And the worst part is that he really might be.” “Letting him do it isn’t an option, Lieutenant, we have no idea what it’ll do to him,” John said shortly. “Of course not, sir.” Ford gave him his best ‘don’t be an asshole’ look while keeping his voice professional. John sighed. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to snap.” Ford shrugged, said, “No problem.” and that was that. You had to love a guy that held a grudge a total of two seconds. They silently watched the scientists work for a several minutes. “You’re thinking that it should have been you, right?” Ford stated. “If Rodney can’t handle it, I doubt I’d last long,” John said dryly. Ford looked at him. “That wasn’t what I asked.” John smiled slightly. “I know.” Ford nodded, as if satisfied. “We’ll get him out and find another way.” And John remembered why he’d picked these people to be on his team. That final line is possibly a little too sappy. Ahem. * Atlantis briefing room, 2000 (1 hour earlier)
I’ve often pondered how smart Zelenka really is. I mean, Rodney is the official genius, but Zelenka is the guy he bounces ideas with. I don’t think Rodney would ever call Zelenka a genius, but then Rodney allegedly doesn’t think that Sam is as smart as he is, except maybe on a good day. To me, Zelenka is almost a bit like Rodney was to Sam in 48 Hours. Not counting the asshole thing, Zelenka seems to be the one who is more theoretical. In 48 Hours McKay accuses Sam of guessing wildly, while on Atlantis, Rodney does a lot more leaps in conclusions than Zelenka does. So, we know that Zelenka is very smart and we know that Rodney bounces ideas with him. I don’t think Zelenka is quite at Rodney’s level, but I don’t think he’s that far away. Some field experience (without killing him, PTB!) would be interesting. All I know for certain is that Zelenka said “exotic particles” with his accent (grrr, baby) and after that, he had me forever and ever. John nodded. “And he’s patched into our radio transmissions too. I don’t think it was a coincidence that he sent the hologram just after our radio contact.” He nods. The first nod of many. “So, what you’re saying,” Dr Weir sighed, “is that whatever we do, Rodney will stop it?” Zelenka looked her in the eye. “Yes.” “We need a diversion,” Ford said, looking a little excited and John knew exactly how he felt. Zelenka being out of ideas meant that it was their turn, and Ford was as incapable as John was of just sitting by and doing nothing. “Such as?” Dr Weir asked. “I don’t know, an explosion? An overload of something?” John nodded, starting to smile. “Yes, but not just one, we’ll have to spread out, set off a chain reaction, make as much noise as possible.” “Where will that get us?” Dr Weir asked. Grodin nodded as well. “If we can get Dr McKay to look elsewhere, he might not be able to counteract every move we make.” “And we can get into the chair room,” Zelenka finished. Beckett shook his head. “I doubt we could distract Rodney long enough to keep the doors open.” John leaned forward. “So we just keep them open long enough for me to get in.” Zelenka looked somber. “I could open the first door for you, Major, but you’d have to open the other two on your own.” “What kind of diversions are we talking about?” Beckett asked. “I could overload a couple of power grids, Lieutenant Ford could set off a few charges,” Grodin suggested. “We could start some fires,” Teyla interjected, “Atlantis would automatically start counter measures.” Teyla so wouldn’t be the one making that suggestion. I hate having so many characters in a room together. Dr Weir. “Sounds like a plan. Get started. I’d give you all the time you need, gentlemen, but I’m a bit short at the moment.” “Yeah,” John muttered, “no undue pressure.” *steals line without any remorse* * Atlantis corridor, 2047 (13 minutes earlier)
He waited tensely as Dr Weir’s voice came over the speakers. “Rodney? Can you hear me? Please, I’d just like to talk.” Hearing Rodney’s voice was like a punch in the gut. “Elizabeth. Going to try and talk me out of this?” John kept his focus with some effort, still waiting. If they moved too soon, the plan would be useless. “I’m just trying to understand, Rodney. You’ve locked us out, you won’t let us in. We’re supposed to do this together.” “Yes, well, this really doesn’t require more than one person.” He paused. “Why are there people at one of the power stations, Elizabeth?” Dr Weir, to her credit, kept her voice steady. "We’re just taking precautions, Rodney. We’re not as sure as you are that this thing won’t harm Atlantis.” Rodney snorted, sounding so much like his normal self. “This thing *is* Atlantis, and as far as I know it’s not suicidal. Quite the opposite.” His voice turned speculative. “You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you, Elizabeth?” In my head, Rodney’s kinda creepy here. I wish I could see DH do an evil McKay, he’d do the creepiness more justice than I’m trying to do here. Every muscle in John’s body was poised and ready to move. Zelenka moved his hands to the sides of the console, not touching it yet. Just a few more moments… Dr Weir’s voice was dry. “I doubt that would be productive to our talk.” I’ve always thought that Elizabeth was at her very coolest the few eps TH got in SG-1. She’s never really gotten to do the diplomat thing in Atlantis. I could never do her justice, I’m no diplomat, but hopefully it comes across that this is her *thing*, this is what she would do if Shep wasn’t always promising things to people without talking to her first. Rodney sounded amused. “It sounds like you’re trying to talk me off a ledge. I don’t think telling the truth is imperative for someone trying to do that.” I like that line, because that’s exactly what she’s trying to do. She’s trying to stop Rodney from committing suicide. John clicked his radio three times, two short bursts and one longer and Zelenka’s hands flew to the console. The corridor around him went dark and Zelenka muttered something that John didn’t understand as he quickly moved a few crystals around. The door hissed open and John ran through, clicking his radio again, this time two long bursts and one short. He ran down the corridor as fast as he could, the next door seeming miles away. He just needed to get through two more doors, two doors, and he’d reach Rodney. The blast, when it came, shook the floor even more violently under John’s feet as he ran and he barely skidded to a halt before moving his hand in front of the panel of this door. The door opened, but as he moved through, it started closing fast. He tore his arm through just as it was about to get stuck. “Eliz-a-beeeth,” Rodney sing-songed and John’s heart thudded in his throat as he ran towards the last door, “you lied to me. I’m hurt! I thought we were friends.” This is possibly too over-the-top. I’m still not sure. “I am your friend,” her voice was firm. “That’s why I can’t let you do this.” “Your concern is heartwarming, really it is.” John slowed down and moved his hand over the panel to the chair room. Nothing happened. “But what makes you think that I won’t empty the air of the corridor outside of here? I assume you’ve sent someone to try and get to me.” Dr Weir’s voice was still steady, which John admired, because as the ventilation system started hissing, sucking the air out, John figured his voice would be far from steady if he spoke. “Rodney, would you kill someone to get your way?” John moved his hand over the panel as another bang shook the corridor. Nothing. Breathing was getting harder and the hiss of the air seeping out filled his ears, louder than before. They hadn’t moved fast enough. “The needs of the many, Elizabeth,” Rodney said, sounding sad. Hey, it’s a TNG rip-off, I’m allowed a Star Trek line. “Damn it, Rodney.” Her voice cracked, but she still sounded determined. John moved his hand over the panel again. Nothing. He closed his eyes, deepening his breathing even as air was getting harder to come by. He pushed his mind into the familiar hum of Atlantis, pushed deeper than he ever had before. At first, he didn’t feel anything else than the circuitry underneath his hand, the glowing crystals that refused to obey him. Then Atlantis opened to him, not reluctantly but swiftly, like a suddenly warm knife cutting through butter. John gasped. It was amazing. The city, pulsing with energy, the ocean around, the heat, the sounds of the water, the *power* of it. He heard Dr Weir’s voice, sounding far away. “-n’t think Major Sheppard appreciates you taking his life when he’s trying to save yours.” John *pushed* again, harder, expecting resistance, but Atlantis complied, moving the energy he wanted moved, activating the controls he wanted activated, almost caressingly. I’d like to think that it isn’t just a coincidence that the doors open when Rodney finds out it’s Shep, that it’s more than Shep just connecting with Atlantis that opens the doors. Yeah, I’m a sap. When the doors opened before him, he didn’t think, he just moved forward before he was closed out. Pushing Atlantis away, he looked into Rodney’s narrowed eyes and cherished the feeling of breathing properly again. “Hello, Rodney.” * The change in tense is abrupt, but it’s probably the only thing in the fic I like being abrupt. We’re no longer seeing what’s led up to this moment, we’re there now. "Major." Rodney says, sounding unimpressed. "Trying to get in here was incredibly stupid. I should have realized that you'd be the one to do it." John smiles easily. “That’s what friends are for.” “I would have thought that sucking the air out would have been a big hint that I didn’t want any visitors.” John quirks an eyebrow. "Please. I don't think protecting the people of Atlantis includes killing them. I called your bluff; live with it." Rodney gives a thoughtful nod. "Always figured you to be smarter than you look." "Rodney, whatever you think the chair is capable of, it's not worth the risk." "You're only saying that because you have no idea of its power. If you did, you would do the same thing, Major, and don't even pretend you wouldn't." ”Rodney,” John says slowly, patiently, carefully moving closer, “you have to get out of that thing.” Rodney smiles at him, crazily. “Why? This is the best thing that’s ever happened to us.” “It’s killing you,” he moves a little closer, “I don’t think that’s a good thing.” Rodney shakes his head, words tumbling over each other in his rush to say them. “Nononono, don’t you understand? This is just the beginning. When we get out of here, I could, I could build impenetrable defenses for Atlantis that wouldn’t require ZPMs. I could build weapons like you’d never *imagined*.” His face is almost ecstatic. “I could destroy the Wraith.” “McKay,” John says through gritted teeth, more afraid for Rodney than he’s ever been before, “you’ll die.” Rodney tilts his head to the side. “No, Major. I’ll be immortal.” John frowns. “What?” “Atlantis isn’t unreasonable, Major. Sure, my body might not make it, but she’d take good care of my mind.” He smiles again, no less crazy. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t be able do, and I’d have all the time I’d need.” “Yeah, well, *I’m* unreasonable. I don’t *care* that your mind would make it. I don’t *care* what you’d be able to do.” He tries to put in every ounce of persuasive powers he has into his words, every ounce of desperation. “It’s not worth the price.” Rodney’s shakes his head in pity. “I see I won’t be able to convince you. You’d better go.” John can hear the doors hissing open behind him. He shakes his head. "I'm not going anywhere." "Major?" Weir's worried voice sounds over the communication system. "We have a problem." John looks up for a moment and then back at Rodney. "What kind of problem?" "The systems are showing a power surge in the control room, Major," Zelenka answers. "What is happening?" John stares at him in disbelief. "Is this you? Is this how you're protecting the city?" Rodney is staring in awe, as if looking at something far away. "No," he whispered. "You don't get it. It's her. She's doing it all by herself, Major." I like the idea of Atlantis being just a little more than she’s meant to be. Had this been Rodney, John would have smirked and called his bluff. Now, he spins around and starts running. * He enters the control room at a full run, barely avoiding knocking down Dr Weir. “What's going on?” Zelenka looks at the controls in confusion and John hears a faint whine from them, though it’s quickly fading. “I do not understand. It's all normal. What did you do?” John looks across at Elizabeth whose troubled face seems to reflect his own. “I left Rodney alone.” Ford and Teyla arrive a few minutes later, shortly followed by Grodin and they gather in the briefing room. And again we have all these characters. *sigh* “Well,” Ford says, “it was a good plan.” Dr Zelenka sighs. “Unfortunately, not good enough.” “We have to get him out of that thing.” Beckett’s face is drawn and tired. “His body, not to mention his brain, wasn’t built to handle that kind of strain.” Dr Weir’s lips are pressed together tightly. She looks tired as well. John wonders if Rodney realizes how many people have gotten attached to his annoying presence. “How long do you think he can keep it up?” Beckett sighs and shakes his head helplessly. “It’s not an exact science. Staying alive? Maybe twenty-four hours; his organs had started showing strain, but they seemed to be holding up relatively well. My greatest concern is his brain.” He looks at John. “The chair is linked to his mind, which is taking the brunt of it all. If we don’t get him out soon, I’m concerned that there will be brain damage.” The words sound so clinical to John. The look in Dr Beckett’s eyes says otherwise. Teyla looks down at her hands that are clasped tightly in front of her on the table. “We cannot reach him by any other means than speaking to him, and that does not work.” She looks up again, eyes unhappy. “Is there anything else we *can* do?” The silence that follows her question makes John’s chest hurt and he closes his eyes. He’s so damn tired. His entire body aches, especially his head. Pushing into Atlantis may have seemed relatively easy at the time, but now his head is throbbing. He remembers being a part of Atlantis for that short moment and there’s a glimmer of understanding of Rodney. All that power. All that power, just there to be harnessed, to be used. John isn’t sure that he wouldn’t do the same if he were in Rodney’s place. With all that potential, his own life would seem like a small price to pay. That’s so true. Danvers and I have discussed Shep a lot, and she’s convinced that Shep is a character meant to die, and it’s so true. He’s the kamikaze of them, the Spock of the story. The complexity of Atlantis, the endless possibilities- His eyes snap open. “The chair.” Dr Weir frowns. “What about it?” John shakes his head. “No, not that chair. The other chair.” Dr Zelenka’s eyes widen. “Of course!” “Care to fill us in?” Ford says, looking from John to Zelenka. “I could use the chair and try to turn Rodney’s chair off.” “I thought that chair was only used to launch drones,” Dr Weir says slowly. “It is,” Zelenka says, excitedly moving his hands, “but in theory, the chair is as much part of Atlantis interface as Rodney’s chair is. With some modifications, it should be able to affect things *inside* Atlantis as well.” Ford looks skeptical. “Just like that? I thought we didn’t have a power source for it?” Shuddup, Ford, it’s called Deus Ex Machina. “We didn’t until Rodney made a new one for us,” John points out. “It is not guaranteed that it will work…” Dr Zelenka admits. Teyla looks worried. “Do you not think that it would be dangerous, Major Sheppard? If Dr McKay discovers what is happening…” “He could fry your brain,” Beckett helpfully fills in. John makes a face. “If I have anything to say about it, his chair will be turned off before he does any frying.” “John, are you sure about this?” Dr Weir’s forehead is creased in concern. “I don’t want to lose Rodney anymore than you do, but I’m not prepared to lose the both of you either.” “He’d do it for me,” John says simply. *huggles John* She looks at him for a long moment and John can see her weighing all the options against each other. Then she presses her lips together and looks at Dr Zelenka, nodding tightly. “Do it.” It always seems harder when Elizabeth decides things than when Hammy did. She’s so personally invested in everyone, and she doesn’t have the military mindset he did. Zelenka stands and leaves the room quickly. * Beckett fastens the final electrode to John’s forehead. He gives John a wan smile. “I hope they won’t be needed, but just to be on the safe side.” John nods. “I’ll just activate the chair briefly. If it doesn’t work right away, I don’t think it’ll work at all.” Beckett makes a face. “It’s just, with Rodney...” “Yeah,” John agrees. The man is way too unpredictable for his own good. Zelenka stands quickly from where he’d crouched next to the chair. “Alright, I’ve rerouted the energy to the chair and I overrode some of the basic commands so that it’ll do what we want it to do.” He frowns. “It should work, but I don’t know for how long.” John clicks the radio on his shoulder three times. They’re ready. The radio clicks two times in response. He has a go. “Okay,” John takes a breath and wills his headache away, “ready when you are.” Zelenka steps back and John sits in the chair. With a final smile to Beckett and Zelenka, he activates the chair and tells Atlantis to shut down Rodney’s chair. He draws in a sharp breath And This is totally Danvers idea too. We make a great team; she comes up with clever ideas, and I squee and start writing them. He stands at the back of a puddle jumper facing Rodney. It seems to be the size of a normal puddle jumper, but when he stretches out his arm to the side, he touches thin air. He turns his head to look and his hand is a good three feet away from the wall. “Where am I?” “Your attempt to try and stop me linked you to my chair and created a virtual reality.” Rodney smiles in delight. “It may be pointless, but it’s neat.” John wants to ask why they’re in a puddle jumper of all places, but then the obvious answer comes to him. It makes perfect sense; as if Rodney’s mind would be in a place that stands still. |