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sga_flashfic2006-07-31 04:49 pm
tigs.livejournal.com) wrote in sga_flashfic2006-07-31 04:49 pm
Entry tags:
Rescue, by tigs [Dark Side Challenge]
Title: Rescue
Author: tigs
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Rodney, Team
Spoilers: Season 2, General Season 3
Disclaimer: So not mine.
Summary: And if this were a joke, Rodney thought, it would have been this one: So. A guy walks into a bar and says ouch.
Author's Notes: Trying to sneak this one in before the end here...
A deep breath, two, and Rodney straightened his shoulders, raised his chin up high, and stepped through the door of the bar. The room was crowded: big men with tangled black beards, leather jackets wrapped around arms that might as well have been tree trunks as far as Rodney was concerned, and if this were a joke, Rodney thought, it would have been this one:
So. A guy walks into a bar and says ouch.
Because really?
Ouch was just about the only thing that Rodney was seeing in his future. Well, pain and suffering and possible death, but he was a six hour hike away from the Gate, and it had only taken an hour longer than that for the people of this planet to kidnap the rest of his team while he'd dived behind a well-placed barrel. Who *knew* what could happen in the twelve-hour turnaround time needed to get a rescue mission back here?
So, Rodney had asked some kid on the street corner where his team had likely been taken, and the kid had pointed in this direction. Roof of red, the kid had said, and the bar was the only thing around with a roof that color, which was why Rodney was walking through the door, his heart fluttering, every single one of his survival instincts screaming, 'Run! Now!'
But he wasn't going to, because, well, his team was in there and it was up to him to get them out.
Sheppard always said that Rodney did his best thinking under the pressure of imminent death, but that was when he had, you know, technology that he could manipulate. Bombs to build or Wraith ships to sabotage, or any of the other hundred and five ways he'd saved their skins during the past three years. This, however, was different. This was the equivalent of a science geek walking into a biker bar and asking for, well, anything really. Anything up to and including getting out of this whole situation alive.
Which was what he was going to have to be asking for, because already the patrons of the establishment were turning towards him, raising big, bushy eyebrows in his direction, and oh, god, he thought, this was why they had Ronon. If Ronon had been standing there, he would have just raised an eyebrow back. He probably would have smiled, too, in that somewhat feral manner of his, and then, Rodney thought, these *people* would have probably embraced him as a brother, drinks and happy endings all around.
Ronon was not there, though. Ronon was probably in some back room with Sheppard and Teyla, hopefully still alive, and it was up to Rodney to get them out of there. So, because in the three block walk here he hadn't been able to think of a better plan, he stepped forward and, as he imagined Ronon would do, he raised an eyebrow, grinned, and the first approaching man—one with *braids* in his *beard*--actually stopped, narrowing his eyes.
Rodney couldn't imagine that the other patrons weren't able to hear the hammering of his heart in his chest, but he wasn't dead yet, so he just grinned more widely, as he pictured Sheppard doing. He added a little bit of Sheppard's smirk to his smile and deliberately rested his hand on the butt of his gun.
The man's eyes narrowed farther, but he didn't move forward. He didn't reach for the knife Rodney saw tied at his waist. He seemed to be waiting—the whole *room* seemed to be waiting, and Rodney realized that it was his move again. Move number three, if he wasn't mistaken, and seeing as that was two moves farther than he'd thought he'd get, he, well, started to relax. Just a little.
Except not really, because now he had to speak, and yes, still a science geek—albeit one who had learned how to raise an eyebrow and smirk—in a room full of bikers and this, he knew, could not possibly end well. But, as his mother used to say, in for a penny, in for a pound, so he said, coughing just a little over the first word, "I—I believe that you have something of mine."
Now it was Braid-beard's turn to raise an eyebrow. Which he did. Both of them, actually, tangles of black hair inching up his forehead. Then he looked at his companions and while the room had seemed to be on mute for the last minute or so, now it suddenly wasn't. It was filled with uproarious laughter, big hands slapping down on leather-clad thighs, and this was his last chance, Rodney was pretty sure, to bolt out the door. To run back to the Gate, grab a full contingent of marines, and hope that all would still be well when they returned.
Then the moment was gone, because the man was stepping forward, closer, and Rodney could feel one of Braid-beard's friends closing in behind, big hands ready to block Rodney's escape.
"Yes," he said loudly, his voice as steady as he could make it. Which was actually remarkably steady, all things considering. "Yes, mine. My three team members. I was told that I would be able to find them here."
Again there was laughter, the tone of which Rodney recognized. The 'Yes, so? And what are you going to do about it?'
This would have been the time in the negotiations where Rodney was pretty sure that Sheppard would have stepped forward, saying something menacing. Ronon would have started cracking his knuckles, and Teyla would have, well. Probably she would have started spinning her sticks in slow, pretty patterns, the intent clear.
Rodney, of course, would have been attempting to stay between all three of them, his finger sweaty on the trigger of his gun. He didn't have that option now, though. But this was what Rodney had learned over the years: in high school, reinforced in books, movies. Take away the leader and the followers become a disorganized mess, distinctly lacking in initiative.
Also? During the last three years, Rodney had learned that he could be dangerous, too.
Really, it was Braid-beard's fault for stepping forward again, because if he hadn't, Rodney would have had to take *two* steps forward, rather than just one. The rest of Braid-beard's friends would have had twice as long to disarm him before he clicked off the safety and had the muzzle of his gun buried in the thick hair of the man's beard.
He said, "If I were you, I would release them."
His own eyes were narrowed, and amazingly enough, his hand wasn't shaking. Braid-beard wasn't laughing any longer; his eyes were huge up-close, like lumps of smoldering coal, but Rodney just smiled, teeth clenched. He could hear the sound of weapons being cocked behind him—all, he was sure, pointing at his head, heart, knees. Disable, kill, do whatever it took to make sure that he didn't walk out of here.
"Do you really want to take the chance," Rodney said, his voice going deeper, harder than he'd known it could, "that one of them will beat me to the shot? Because let me tell you, in the last three years I have been taken hostage at least four—or maybe it's five—times, I have escaped an erupting volcano through sheer force of will, I have built atomic weapons, killed more men than live in your sleepy little village here, and, oh yeah, destroyed--at last count I think it was *seven* Wraith *hive ships*. Also? I pretty much single-handedly blew up a solar system. Sky, stars, planets just like yours *gone*. So do you really want to test me right now? Do you?"
As Rodney had been speaking, he'd unknowingly been drawing closer to Braid-beard, standing up on his tiptoes, until his nose had almost reached the man's lips. The muzzle of his gun was now pressed against the man's throat; he could feel it when the other man swallowed.
Rodney was breathing quickly, harshly, but now that he'd stopped speaking, his nerves were starting to flutter back to life. Braid-beard's eyes were focused on his face, though, studying him, so Rodney tried to keep looking determined. Like blowing up solar systems was something that he did on a daily basis, and no, he would have no compunction about blowing up Braid-beard's.
The silence was stretching on too long, though. It wasn't going to work, Rodney thought. It would be too simple if it were to work. He needed to do something else, he thought, say something else, so he said, slowly, deliberately, his finger visibly caressing the trigger of the gun: "I am the most dangerous man you will ever meet."
And Braid-beard blinked. He blinked, his eyes darted to the side, and Rodney knew he had won.
He leaned forward, just a little bit more, pressing the gun to the man's throat a little bit more firmly, and he smiled—just as feral as Ronon had ever smiled—as Braid-beard swallowed and said, almost coughing, "Release them."
Rodney's first instinct was to step back, to smirk in a self-satisfied manner, but he'd been in the Pegasus Galaxy long enough to know that you never gave up your advantage until you had exactly what you wanted.
It was only a minute, though, until he saw Sheppard, Ronon, and Teyla being led into the room. They were looking confused, but then, as they took in the scene in front of them, Rodney saw Sheppard start forward, a determined look on his face. He saw Ronon reaching for his hair.
He said, "I have it under control, Colonel," to which Sheppard said, "I can see that."
Rodney might have said something in response to that, but before he could think of what, his team was standing behind him, between him and the door, so Rodney thought that it would be okay to lower the weapon. That he could let his hand fall back to his hip, probably with far too much visible relief, but he didn't. He kept the gun raised, taking a step backwards.
"We'll just be going now," Sheppard said from behind him. "I wouldn't suggest trying to follow us. He really did blow up a solar system, you know. It's actually not as hard to do as you might think it is." His voice was light, joking, almost, and the rest of the bar patrons were backing away now, letting them leave.
Rodney's arm finally started to tremble as they left, adrenaline waning, but then they were out the door, turning and *going*.
It was only when they were completely out of the town that Rodney started to shake. He stopped, leaned back against a tree, and the rest of the team gathered around, not quite out of breath, not yet, but okay with giving him this.
"You had us quite concerned, Dr. McKay," Teyla said after a moment, "when we heard you enter the pub." And while Sheppard said, "I knew you'd come up with something, Rodney," Ronon said, "I didn't think you had it in you, McKay."
That made Rodney pause. "Why not?" he asked. "It's all true."
End.
Author: tigs
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Rodney, Team
Spoilers: Season 2, General Season 3
Disclaimer: So not mine.
Summary: And if this were a joke, Rodney thought, it would have been this one: So. A guy walks into a bar and says ouch.
Author's Notes: Trying to sneak this one in before the end here...
A deep breath, two, and Rodney straightened his shoulders, raised his chin up high, and stepped through the door of the bar. The room was crowded: big men with tangled black beards, leather jackets wrapped around arms that might as well have been tree trunks as far as Rodney was concerned, and if this were a joke, Rodney thought, it would have been this one:
So. A guy walks into a bar and says ouch.
Because really?
Ouch was just about the only thing that Rodney was seeing in his future. Well, pain and suffering and possible death, but he was a six hour hike away from the Gate, and it had only taken an hour longer than that for the people of this planet to kidnap the rest of his team while he'd dived behind a well-placed barrel. Who *knew* what could happen in the twelve-hour turnaround time needed to get a rescue mission back here?
So, Rodney had asked some kid on the street corner where his team had likely been taken, and the kid had pointed in this direction. Roof of red, the kid had said, and the bar was the only thing around with a roof that color, which was why Rodney was walking through the door, his heart fluttering, every single one of his survival instincts screaming, 'Run! Now!'
But he wasn't going to, because, well, his team was in there and it was up to him to get them out.
Sheppard always said that Rodney did his best thinking under the pressure of imminent death, but that was when he had, you know, technology that he could manipulate. Bombs to build or Wraith ships to sabotage, or any of the other hundred and five ways he'd saved their skins during the past three years. This, however, was different. This was the equivalent of a science geek walking into a biker bar and asking for, well, anything really. Anything up to and including getting out of this whole situation alive.
Which was what he was going to have to be asking for, because already the patrons of the establishment were turning towards him, raising big, bushy eyebrows in his direction, and oh, god, he thought, this was why they had Ronon. If Ronon had been standing there, he would have just raised an eyebrow back. He probably would have smiled, too, in that somewhat feral manner of his, and then, Rodney thought, these *people* would have probably embraced him as a brother, drinks and happy endings all around.
Ronon was not there, though. Ronon was probably in some back room with Sheppard and Teyla, hopefully still alive, and it was up to Rodney to get them out of there. So, because in the three block walk here he hadn't been able to think of a better plan, he stepped forward and, as he imagined Ronon would do, he raised an eyebrow, grinned, and the first approaching man—one with *braids* in his *beard*--actually stopped, narrowing his eyes.
Rodney couldn't imagine that the other patrons weren't able to hear the hammering of his heart in his chest, but he wasn't dead yet, so he just grinned more widely, as he pictured Sheppard doing. He added a little bit of Sheppard's smirk to his smile and deliberately rested his hand on the butt of his gun.
The man's eyes narrowed farther, but he didn't move forward. He didn't reach for the knife Rodney saw tied at his waist. He seemed to be waiting—the whole *room* seemed to be waiting, and Rodney realized that it was his move again. Move number three, if he wasn't mistaken, and seeing as that was two moves farther than he'd thought he'd get, he, well, started to relax. Just a little.
Except not really, because now he had to speak, and yes, still a science geek—albeit one who had learned how to raise an eyebrow and smirk—in a room full of bikers and this, he knew, could not possibly end well. But, as his mother used to say, in for a penny, in for a pound, so he said, coughing just a little over the first word, "I—I believe that you have something of mine."
Now it was Braid-beard's turn to raise an eyebrow. Which he did. Both of them, actually, tangles of black hair inching up his forehead. Then he looked at his companions and while the room had seemed to be on mute for the last minute or so, now it suddenly wasn't. It was filled with uproarious laughter, big hands slapping down on leather-clad thighs, and this was his last chance, Rodney was pretty sure, to bolt out the door. To run back to the Gate, grab a full contingent of marines, and hope that all would still be well when they returned.
Then the moment was gone, because the man was stepping forward, closer, and Rodney could feel one of Braid-beard's friends closing in behind, big hands ready to block Rodney's escape.
"Yes," he said loudly, his voice as steady as he could make it. Which was actually remarkably steady, all things considering. "Yes, mine. My three team members. I was told that I would be able to find them here."
Again there was laughter, the tone of which Rodney recognized. The 'Yes, so? And what are you going to do about it?'
This would have been the time in the negotiations where Rodney was pretty sure that Sheppard would have stepped forward, saying something menacing. Ronon would have started cracking his knuckles, and Teyla would have, well. Probably she would have started spinning her sticks in slow, pretty patterns, the intent clear.
Rodney, of course, would have been attempting to stay between all three of them, his finger sweaty on the trigger of his gun. He didn't have that option now, though. But this was what Rodney had learned over the years: in high school, reinforced in books, movies. Take away the leader and the followers become a disorganized mess, distinctly lacking in initiative.
Also? During the last three years, Rodney had learned that he could be dangerous, too.
Really, it was Braid-beard's fault for stepping forward again, because if he hadn't, Rodney would have had to take *two* steps forward, rather than just one. The rest of Braid-beard's friends would have had twice as long to disarm him before he clicked off the safety and had the muzzle of his gun buried in the thick hair of the man's beard.
He said, "If I were you, I would release them."
His own eyes were narrowed, and amazingly enough, his hand wasn't shaking. Braid-beard wasn't laughing any longer; his eyes were huge up-close, like lumps of smoldering coal, but Rodney just smiled, teeth clenched. He could hear the sound of weapons being cocked behind him—all, he was sure, pointing at his head, heart, knees. Disable, kill, do whatever it took to make sure that he didn't walk out of here.
"Do you really want to take the chance," Rodney said, his voice going deeper, harder than he'd known it could, "that one of them will beat me to the shot? Because let me tell you, in the last three years I have been taken hostage at least four—or maybe it's five—times, I have escaped an erupting volcano through sheer force of will, I have built atomic weapons, killed more men than live in your sleepy little village here, and, oh yeah, destroyed--at last count I think it was *seven* Wraith *hive ships*. Also? I pretty much single-handedly blew up a solar system. Sky, stars, planets just like yours *gone*. So do you really want to test me right now? Do you?"
As Rodney had been speaking, he'd unknowingly been drawing closer to Braid-beard, standing up on his tiptoes, until his nose had almost reached the man's lips. The muzzle of his gun was now pressed against the man's throat; he could feel it when the other man swallowed.
Rodney was breathing quickly, harshly, but now that he'd stopped speaking, his nerves were starting to flutter back to life. Braid-beard's eyes were focused on his face, though, studying him, so Rodney tried to keep looking determined. Like blowing up solar systems was something that he did on a daily basis, and no, he would have no compunction about blowing up Braid-beard's.
The silence was stretching on too long, though. It wasn't going to work, Rodney thought. It would be too simple if it were to work. He needed to do something else, he thought, say something else, so he said, slowly, deliberately, his finger visibly caressing the trigger of the gun: "I am the most dangerous man you will ever meet."
And Braid-beard blinked. He blinked, his eyes darted to the side, and Rodney knew he had won.
He leaned forward, just a little bit more, pressing the gun to the man's throat a little bit more firmly, and he smiled—just as feral as Ronon had ever smiled—as Braid-beard swallowed and said, almost coughing, "Release them."
Rodney's first instinct was to step back, to smirk in a self-satisfied manner, but he'd been in the Pegasus Galaxy long enough to know that you never gave up your advantage until you had exactly what you wanted.
It was only a minute, though, until he saw Sheppard, Ronon, and Teyla being led into the room. They were looking confused, but then, as they took in the scene in front of them, Rodney saw Sheppard start forward, a determined look on his face. He saw Ronon reaching for his hair.
He said, "I have it under control, Colonel," to which Sheppard said, "I can see that."
Rodney might have said something in response to that, but before he could think of what, his team was standing behind him, between him and the door, so Rodney thought that it would be okay to lower the weapon. That he could let his hand fall back to his hip, probably with far too much visible relief, but he didn't. He kept the gun raised, taking a step backwards.
"We'll just be going now," Sheppard said from behind him. "I wouldn't suggest trying to follow us. He really did blow up a solar system, you know. It's actually not as hard to do as you might think it is." His voice was light, joking, almost, and the rest of the bar patrons were backing away now, letting them leave.
Rodney's arm finally started to tremble as they left, adrenaline waning, but then they were out the door, turning and *going*.
It was only when they were completely out of the town that Rodney started to shake. He stopped, leaned back against a tree, and the rest of the team gathered around, not quite out of breath, not yet, but okay with giving him this.
"You had us quite concerned, Dr. McKay," Teyla said after a moment, "when we heard you enter the pub." And while Sheppard said, "I knew you'd come up with something, Rodney," Ronon said, "I didn't think you had it in you, McKay."
That made Rodney pause. "Why not?" he asked. "It's all true."
End.
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