Once in a Fullest Moon, exhaustion challenge

[zabbers.livejournal.com]

And now, I am exhausted.  Because this bunny didn't bite until, like, the day before yesterday.

Title: Once in a Fullest Moon

Author: zabbers

Word Count: 3,300

Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Just about everyone I could think of, but it's almost all just implied/briefly mentioned.

Summary: One by one, they felt themselves gravitating towards one another:  a bickering couple quickly reconciled, two neighbors united over a shared balcony, strangers met one another for the first time on the long piers.  

Once in a Fullest Moon

 

   

            The Lanteans say that when the Great Explorers first flew the City across the vast intergalactic void to Pegasus, they searched high and low for a suitable planet from which to base their forays into the new frontier, and fell in love with one shining world among all the candidates.  They fell in love with its oceans, or, rather, one ocean, pristine and glimmering, varying in color as diversely as the aurora on the periphery of their home planet, vast like space and intimate like the City itself, breathing with a life that held all the promise the Explorers had hoped for.  They fell in love with the moon that caused those tidal inhalations, larger and closer than Earth’s moon but just as silvery and just as round, a little sister that on the night of the first flyby cast a caressing shadow on the main landmass.  They fell in love with the night sky, once scouting teams set foot on the mainland, the way the moon, at the time the barest sliver peeking through the darkness of that night, glittered coyly, the way the rest of the galaxy danced attendance on her in a swirl of clear starlight so different from the Milky Way, a welcome for the adventuring hearts of all Atlantis’ people.  The leaders of the City put it to the general population for a vote, and the consensus was overwhelming:  this planet would be Home.

            The Lanteans also tell of the curious thing that happened to the City not so long after it dropped anchor in this world’s ocean.  The story goes that once, five years after arrival, Atlantis hummed with unusual activity.  The moon was full that night; in fact, meteorological and astronomical conditions had come together to create a full moon brighter and closer than any the Lanteans had experienced before.  This moon had an adverse effect on the City—it seemed not one person could sleep.  At third hour, local time, everyone was wide awake, rubbing their eyes and trying to find ways to slumber.  Now, these Explorers had seen a great many things, from the Aurora Australis back on Earth to the true silence and emptiness of deep space, to the streaming lights of hyperdrive.  But this moon was new to them, and the effects were unsettling.  One by one, they felt themselves gravitating towards one another:  a bickering couple quickly reconciled, two neighbors united over a shared balcony, strangers met one another for the first time on the long piers.  The Explorers, chosen for their adventurous spirit and ever open to new experiences, took these effects I stride and enjoyed the discoveries revealed by the light of the fullest of moons.  When the moon waned, they went back to the business of exploring the galaxy, having explored themselves just a bit more thoroughly.  And every seven years or so, the moon shone full again and the Lanteans rejoiced.  The leaders of Atlantis never explicitly condoned this impromptu festival, but after millennia it became an unspoken tradition.  Besides, each member of the Council had grown up waiting eagerly for the time of the Fullest Moon.  Even in the terrible years of the Wraith Wars, even in the years leading to the evacuation back to Earth, the Fullest Moon was anticipated as a time of rejuvenation and rebirth, a celebration of all the things that made humans human and life worth living.  The fighting didn’t stop, but those who could manage it returned home to spend one sleepless, wonderful night in the city that started it all.

            But that was then.  And the last festival the City saw was more than 10,000 years ago.  This story is about now, and about a new group of Lanteans who have never been examined by the light of the Fullest Moon.

 

            There are a lot of things John Sheppard does on Atlantis when he can’t sleep.  More often than not, he goes down to the range they’ve set up and puts in his hours of target practice.  Sometimes he patrols the city, checking in on the night shift in the control center, stopping by the infirmary if any of his men are there, making a stop in the labs to see whatever scientists are still up working or running experiments.  Occasionally he goes for a run or through his stick fighting positions, wanders into the mess hall for a mug of warm milk and maybe some cake, or sits in the common lounge, reading or watching a dvd with the volume turned down.  And once in a while, he just stand on his balcony and looks at the stars.  Normally, he doesn’t have to repeat even one of these activities for months because, stress about attacks and other emergencies notwithstanding, John Sheppard sleeps very well on Atlantis.

            Tonight, though, he can’t sleep, and none of the usual options are looking very appealing because, over the course of the last fortnight, he has gone through them all.  At first, he would only be up an extra hour or two, when the light streaming through his windows shone directly on his bed, but in the last couple of days it’s gotten worse.  John hadn’t thought moonlight could get any brighter, but it has.  It’s not just the light, either—John can feel the weight of that great orb, pulling him, unsettling him in a way gravity never has before.

            He’s been tossing and turning for what must be hours now, futilely trying to ignore the obvious.  His sheets are all kicked into an uncomfortable twist and his pillow has long since run out of cool spots.  Finally, he pushes the sheets out of the way and sits up, frustrated and achy and exhausted from his struggle.  He couldn’t have slept more than two hours the night before, either.  He rubs at his face blearily.  The worst thing is, he’s so sleepy he feels like he could nod off even if he was, say, running, but he can’t actually fall asleep.  Damn that full moon.  John stands up slowly and reaches for a t-shirt, which he pulls over his head.  He doesn’t really know what he’s going to do, but anything would be better than lying here, not sleeping.

 

            Rodney sits straight up when he hears the door to the ‘jumper bay slide open, almost hitting hi head on the passenger bench.  He hadn’t been asleep, exactly, but the warm lull of post-coital sleepiness had put him in a drifting, half-aware state, and he’d been sprawled out on his back, consciousness roaming the vague spaces at the margins of his mind.  But when the door opens and he realizes someone is walking towards the ‘jumper, he comes fully awake, cobwebs cleared away with one sweep of his mental hand.  Someone is coming.  They might see.

            The man next to him stirs, swimming up to consciousness, and Rodney pauses before standing up and pulling on his clothes to murmur him back to half-sleep.  He’ll take care of this.  Rodney tucks the part of the emergency blanket he’d been lying on—because who wants to have sex on a metal grate?—over the other man, then hits the door control and ducks out of the puddlejumper, making sure to close the door after him.

            It’s Sheppard.  Rodney can’t deny that this is the one man he’d hoped not to find out there, even while he’d hoped that it was him.  Because all through his sleepy wanderings, he’d felt the presence of John Sheppard dogging his footsteps, a smirking shadow that wouldn’t leave him alone.

            Sheppard squints at Rodney, eyes adjusting to the dark of the ‘jumper bay.  “Rodney?”

            “Colonel,” Rodney says.  “What are you doing here?”

            For a moment, Sheppard looks defensive.  “I’m a pilot, and I’m checking on my ships—wait, I should really be asking you that question.”  He narrows his eyes accusingly.  Sheppard is sleep-rumpled in t-shirt and sweats, and there are bags under his eyes.  Rodney knows he probably looks just as bad; he’s used to not sleeping for days on end in the name of science, but these last few days have been something else.  He figures he probably doesn’t look half as appealing.

            “I, uh, I couldn’t sleep,” he stutters.  “So I came down here to run a diagnostic.”  Technically, he’s telling the truth.  He had come to run a diagnostic on the puddlejumper when he’d decided there was no point trying to sleep.  He’d had some interesting ideas about increasing engine efficiency, and he’d thought it would be useful to actually work with the ‘jumper controls.  The open panel hanging down from the ceiling of the ‘jumper, fiber-optics dangling, is evidence he’d started doing just that.  If there is evidence that he’d been interrupted, too, well, this is why he’s not going to let Sheppard into that particular ‘jumper tonight.

            Sheppard looks suspicious, but he lets it go.  “Okay.”  He runs a hand through his hair.  “Since the ‘jumpers are in your capable hands, I guess I don’t really need to be down here.  Maybe I’ll just go make myself a cup of tea.  Herbal tea.”  He turns to go, but then stops at the door, and when Rodney looks at him expectantly, he sees a look in the hazel eyes that he imagines he’s seen before.  In his dreams.  “You…wanna come?  I can’t sleep either, and…it’d be nice to have some company.”

            Rodney can’t help it; his eyes flick over to the ‘jumper, and he’s thinking it’d probably be really impolite for him to just walk off with John Sheppard right now.  But then he looks at Sheppard again, all hopeful and tired-looking and so inviting.  Oh, what the hell, he thinks.  If he asks, I’ll just tell him it was the only way to get Colonel Sheppard to not go inside the ‘jumpers.  

 

            Radek has never hated his quarters before, even though he is one of only a few members of the original Expedition not to have his own balcony.  He doesn’t like heights.  Balconies mean heights.  A nice, safe window, that’s fine.  He does not want to fall into the ocean while staring goggle-eyed at the stars.  But tonight he hates his quarters because even his little window lets in too much moonlight, so Radek cannot sleep.  It is a travesty, it is this galaxy out to get him, it is probably Rodney’s fault.  Okay, he knows this is unfair, but it is usually Rodney’s fault, and it isn’t like he’s blaming Rodney out loud.  

            Odsouzeníhodný mésíc.  Radek mutters under his breath as he tries what must be the fifteenth place since he first left his quarters forty-five minutes ago.  He is determined to find a room that does not have any moonlight at all, but he hadn’t noticed before how every space on Atlantis seems to have a window or at least some usually very pretty stained glass.  He has tried the control room, the mess hall, the labs.  That had been one place that was also dark enough, but, well, that place was already occupied, and…and Radek isn’t ready to think about what had just happened there.  So he is quickly running out of ideas.  

            He’s in luck, though, because the ‘jumper bay?  Definitely dark.  Both the sky door and the gateroom door are closed, so the ‘jumpers are sealed in, all snug like cows in a barn.  There’s light coming from one of the ‘jumpers, though, and what sounds like…oh no.  Rodneyish muttering.  Radek considers turning around and walking right back to his too-bright room, but natural curiosity takes over.  What is Rodney doing in a ‘jumper at two in the morning?  

            Radek makes his way towards the ‘jumper, figuring if he can’t get a little rest, then at least he can make Rodney jump and scream like a little girl.  Rodney sees him first, though, because he’s staring into space over the edge of his tablet instead of hard at work as Radek had expected.

            “Radek, good, you’re just in time to help me realign the thruster pods.”

            “What?  What are you doing?”

            “Hmm?  Oh, I couldn’t sleep so I came down here to play with the engine.  I think I’m going to be able to up engine efficiency by 12 percent with my adjustments.”

            “I hope you were planning on telling someone that you had upset the ‘jumper settings before they tried to fly it.”

            “Sure, ‘course,” Rodney says, waving dismissively.  “Well?  Are you going to help or not?”

            Radek rolls his eyes.  “Fine.  I will help.”

            “Then come over here and pull these crystals when I tell you to.”  Rodney gestures at the ‘jumper control that is hanging from the ceiling, and Radek peers at the crystal he’s supposed to be pulling.  He sticks his arm up in the arm, goes on his tiptoes.

            “Now!”

            “Rodney,” Radek says, not moving.

            “I said now, Radek, what the hell’s the matter with you?”

            “Rodney, I can’t reach that crystal.”

            “Oh.”  Rodney leans in over Radek and reaches for the panel.  “Sorry.  I’ll…do it myself.”  He is so close to Radek’s back that he can feel the other scientist’s shirt brushing his neck.  When Radek turns his face is in Rodney’s chest.  Rodney pulls the crystal, settles back on the heels of his feet, still too close.  Radek feels himself flush as Rodney looks at him, wondering why this happens to him in every dark room he walks into.

 

            Elizabeth finally makes it back to her quarters with the tea she had gone to the mess hall for, determined that since she can’t sleep, she’s going to use the time to catch up on news from Earth instead of playing spider solitaire on her tablet.  Not that she had to worry about playing solitaire, apparently.  It had taken her a good hour to get her tea, and it wasn’t because the mess hall was out of hot water.  She allowed herself a private smile as she thought back to the interruptions that had kept her from fulfilling her little mission.  First, there had been the knock at her door just as she’d been heading out.  She hadn’t really known what to expect, but it had definitely not been the sight of Colonel Caldwell, out of uniform and looking distressed.

            “Colonel?” she’d said.  “What can I do for you?”

            “Dr. Weir,” he had begun.  And then stopped, started again.  “Dr. Weir, I was wondering if I could have a word.  May I come in?”

            She had let him in, thinking he just needed someone to talk to on this sleepless night.  Since everyone on the Daedalus was military and so officially under his command, and he didn’t really work with anybody else on Atlantis, Elizabeth was the closest thing Caldwell had to a friend in the Pegasus Galaxy.  He’d sought her out a few times for casual conversations since Hermiod had taken the Goa’uld symbiont out of him.  However, she had not been prepared for the confession that spilled out of straight-laced officer, head shining a little in the moonlight.  And maybe it was the shininess of his pate, or maybe she was just glad that someone didn’t see her as the untouchable head of the expedition, but she’d decided to put off reading old newspapers for a little while.

            The second interruption was her own fault:  she’d finally gone down to the mess hall and was heading back to her quarters when she had decided to stop by the labs and see if any of the scientists were doing anything interesting.  She found Dr. Zelenka there, but he wasn’t really doing anything, just…zoned out on a stool with his head against the lab bench.

            “Dr. Zelenka?” she’d called out.  “Maybe you should go back to your room.”

            “Too bright, moon is out,” he muttered.

            “Well, that can’t be comfortable.”  She thought for a moment.  “Isn’t there a couch in lab two?”

            Zelenka sat up blearily.  “I cannot sleep, either.”  He rubbed at the side of his face where it had become smooshed against the metal bench.  “But maybe it would be more comfortable anyway.”  He didn’t seem about to go anywhere, though, so Elizabeth puts down her mug and guides him to the door.  She wonders vaguely if she shouldn’t just leave him alone—she doesn’t need a confession to know about his crush on her—but he looks like he might fall over if she doesn’t help him get to the couch, and he’s so out of it, he probably won’t remember anyway.

            Or at least, that’s what she tells herself.

 

            Caldwell walks furtively back to the Daedalus, docked on the East Pier.  Outside, he glances up at the full moon, much too bright up in the sky.  He’s normally a suspicious man, but he doesn’t realize he should be suspicious of an inanimate object.  At least, not one like the moon.  The Daedalus, on the other hand.  Even before the incident with the Wraith virus in the Daedalus’ computers, Novak had always said she thought there was something…sentient in the computers, watching them.  Caldwell had dismissed it with an indulgent laugh, teasing that she was just paranoid, but with all the half-understood technology the Asgard had given them, well, it was all too possible.  

 

            Whenever Lindsey feels like she needs to get away from Hermiod and the Daedalus is docked at Atlantis, she goes down to the gate control room to talk to Atlantis’ senior gate technician.  He’s charming, if not particularly colorful, and that’s just what Lindsey needs after enduring the huge, black-eyed glares of her Asgard keeper.  The Canadian never pushes and waits patiently when Lindsey’s hiccups threatened to ruin the mood.  Lindsey likes that.

 

           Miko wonders what strange impulses have gotten into her for her to be behaving as she has these past few days.  The gate technician guy is only the latest in a string of one night stands she’s engaged in ever since the moon started glowing so full in the sky, and she doesn’t even know his name!  Miko has one love and one love only, and that, unfortunately, is her boss, Dr. Rodney McKay, head scientist of the Atlantis Expedition.  Unfortunately, Dr. McKay hasn’t seemed to notice her yet.  Miko sighs as she looks down at her latest conquest, half-hidden under the ‘gate console.  If she can’t see him all that clearly with her glasses off, all the better, because then maybe she can pretend…  She tries to stifle the yawn that tries to surface—she doesn’t want to offend, but she really is very tired.

 

            A great many people can’t sleep in Atlantis tonight—which is the way it’s been for millennia—and the exhaustion has the traditional effect of lowering inhibitions and muddling normally disciplined minds.  It’s a matter of hidden lust:  in the light of the moon, unacknowledged affinities are highlighted, latent connections are uncovered.  Kusanagi, Beckett, Cadman, Brown, Parrish, Lorne…the list of names is endless, a circle of affection in a small community that is heir to more than just genes and unheard-of technological marvels.  Even the aliens have gotten in on it.  Sometime in the night, Sora, something between a prisoner and a refugee, finds herself in the arms of a marine.  By way of apology, she shares the joy with her late-father’s friend, Teyla Emmagen.  And Teyla does more with Ronon than just stick fight.

            This is how John Sheppard gets propositioned by a tall young team member with dreadlocks, moments after leaving Rodney’s quarters.  It isn’t surprising, really.  The Lanteans knew:  some relationships will hold over beyond the time of the Fullest Moon.  Some won’t.  In a few days, the moon will wane and everyone will get some much-needed sleep.  In the meantime, rejoice in the festival; it only comes once every seven years.

ETA: I finally got the hint (and the time) to go through and actually check the thing, and I am <i>ashamed</i> at all the typos I didn't catch posting/checking late at night.  I need a beta.  And to stop writing and posting fics on whims at random hours of the night.

Comments

[ceitie.livejournal.com]

Woo! Atlantis orgy! Only a really lovely, well-written, almost gentle orgy, a community orgy, all tied up with longing and restless and Lanteans legends. Awesomeness.

[zabbers.livejournal.com]

Sorta a sexless orgy. Lots of unwritten scenes if the need for porn opportunities ever arises. Thanks!

[emeraldsword.livejournal.com]

Oh, I really liked this. A couple of typos slipped through your net, especially in the first paragraph, but this was just excellent. I really liked the way it was so peaceful, yet so intense. Good job :-)

[zabbers.livejournal.com]

Okay, I think I've fixed typos, at least in the little Ancient Lantean bit, what I could catch at this time of night. Must have forgotten to run spellcheck *facepalm* I'll come back and check it again when I'm more alert. And I'm glad you liked it. :-)

[melagan.livejournal.com]

I enjoyed this very much. I especially liked this touch although I can't say why.
...a circle of affection in a small community ...

Suits the mood perhaps or adds another layer. It works for me. :)