stillane | Fic Post: Reception, SGA

This is for the Atlantis Back to Basics Challenge.

Okay, so, explanation time. See, I started on my challenge response, and had all these wonderful ideas, and then they spawned more ideas, and before I knew it there was a stream full of leaping salmonfics in my head. Of course, this happened when I had the least time ever to devote to writing, and at some point it became apparent I could not do that story justice in time.

Thus, I hereby present my own placeholder fic. The real, serious, I-mean-it-now response (which, incidentally, is actually what was requested, complete with bugs) may not be along until next week, but in the meantime, please accept my apologies and this crumb. It’s… almost what you asked for. Really.

Recipient:

piplover
Title: Reception
Author:

stillane
Rating: PG
Category: slash of the McKay/Sheppard variety
Spoilers: through The Long Goodbye
Summary: The truth may be closer than he thinks.

The prompt this is based upon:
C)After The Long Goodbye, Ronon and Teyla are introduced to television.
After watching a sci-fi show, Teyla wonders aloud why none of the
Earthers thought that the aliens would take them over when so many
stories had been written about it.

This is almost that story. Actually, it’s the prequel to that story, which is coming soon.

Reception

It was the music that drew him in.

He would recognize those six whistling, electronic notes anywhere. Which was a good thing, since he sure as hell hadn’t expected to hear them just now.

It was late enough that everyone else should have been in bed, or at least off doing respectable things like walking patrol or playing solitaire. The area they’d designated as the rec room shouldn’t have had three bodies sprawled through it, focused entirely on the screen they’d rigged to show whatever movies the Daedalus could bring them. Episodes of some television shows had a habit of turning up, too, sometimes long before they should have been released on DVD. John had his suspicions Rodney had a source in the SGC, but no proof.

He leaned against the wall to watch for a while, although his eyes were more for his team than the show. The room was lit only by the screen’s blues and greys, but he could make out Rodney lying on his stomach with his chin in his hands like a four–year-old watching cartoons and Teyla with her back against the foot of the couch.

Her voice came from out of the darkness. “Colonel.”

He shook his head ruefully. “Hi. What are you up to?”

Ronon looked up from his position stretched out on the sofa. “McKay’s showing us television.”

“You’re starting with the X-Files? Seriously, Rodney, this is the best you could come up with? You’ll warp them for life.”

On cue, Rodney’s tone came out defensive. “I happened to like it.” He deflated a little. “Well, until they started jumping sharks at every available opportunity.” He seemed to regroup. “And what would you have gone with? I’m betting there would have been men dressed like zebras involved.”

Just to spite him, John tilted his head superiorly. “For your information, I think one of the classics would be more appropriate.”

“This is –“

“Say, the Outer Limits. Maybe the original Trek.”

Rodney froze with his mouth open. “Huh.” He swallowed. “Well, that’s… surprisingly astute. There may be hope for you yet.”

“Of course, then we’d get to the movies.” John grinned. “Say it with me now, Ronon: De-lor-ee-an.”

Onscreen, Mulder gestured dramatically and Scully looked appropriately skeptical. John settled on the floor with his back against the couch, hiding his smile as Rodney railed about the sanctity of space-time. He caught Teyla watching from the corner of his eye and winked.

*******

An hour later, Ronon and Rodney were snoring softly as the screen turned to snow. John turned his head to Teyla.

“You know about television. You know about football. You have for a year.”

She smiled softly. “Yes.”

John laughed quietly. It had been a long time since they’d done this.

He sobered. “How’s he doing?”

Her eyes wandered to the feet by John’s head. “He is healing, despite his best efforts. He decided today would be the perfect opportunity to test his limits.”

“Ouch.”

“Yes. It appears he ran for nearly two miles before reaching them. Dr. Beckett was… displeased.”

John snorted. “Yeah. I’ll bet. So you and Rodney cooked up movie night.”

“Something like that, yes. Rodney claimed it would be 'educational'. I believe I will have many questions to come. Why, for instance, the Asgard strike such fear among you. Is it related to the jeopardy of which he spoke?”

John smiled. “Nah. Although Alex Trebek is scary enough. I’m sure McKay will be happy to explain all the wonders of the small screen, though, just as soon as he gets his beauty sleep. Speaking of which… how do you want to do this?”

She nodded to the sleeping bag Rodney was using as a pillow. “I had intended to keep watch here tonight. Dr. Beckett was most insistent Ronon not be unsupervised.”

He almost offered to trade her and stay, but caught the slight smile on her face in time. Apparently, it wasn’t his turn to be chivalrous tonight. “Okay. Sleep tight, and don’t let the bed… space… ah, nevermind. Just, no bugs. Bugs are bad.”

She was still smiling when he led a mumbling Rodney from the room.

*******

Three days later, in the middle of John helpfully watching Rodney run diagnostics on the transporter at the end of Pier 3 and apropos of absolutely nothing, Rodney looked up.

“I’m Scully, you know.”

“I know.”

“I mean, it only makes sense, with my scientific mind and your hair and what do you mean you know? If this is going to turn in the ‘you’re the girl’ direction –“

“Nope.”

“Oh.” He paused. “Huh. Okay then. Wait, why am I Scully, again?”

“Scully shot Mulder.”

Dead silence, and Rodney went utterly still. Then, very quietly, “I’m sorry. I, ah, I know I didn’t say it, before, but I was really hoping you hadn’t noticed.”

John breathed a laugh and Rodney sighed. “Yes, of course you noticed the getting shot, but I was hoping you might have been fuzzier on the who.”

“Not quite.”

“Well, I… Still sorry.”

John looked away. Rodney was fun when he was twitchy, and John had been kidding. Right up until he wasn’t. “I’ve had worse. Besides, Elizabeth shot Ronon. It all equals out.”

He could feel the gaze on the side of his head. “Sometimes, I worry about you.”

The tone was light. The silence afterward wasn’t.

“Sometimes...”

John chose his words carefully. “Sometimes, I worry back.”

Neither of them moved. Eventually, Rodney turned back to his instruments and John settled back against the wall. The silence was better this time.

*******

They hadn’t said another word about it for almost a week.

“Have you noticed the Caldwell thing?”

John was mostly asleep, limbs scattered over Rodney and as much of the bed as he could claim. He didn’t bother to answer.

“Of course, if I’m Scully and you’re Mulder, then Elizabeth would be Skinner, and if Skinner is Caldwell, then Elizabeth is Caldwell and… that’s just wrong.” He sighed, and John had a brief flash of hope sleep was coming soon.

“You shot me, too.”

John grunted.

Rodney translated absently. “Yes, it counts. You didn’t know for sure it wouldn’t hurt, and I didn’t know it was you, so it’s fair. We’re even.”

John curled his leg further around Rodney’s and ducked his head into his chest. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

The part of him that wasn’t mostly unconscious registered the sudden quiet, filed it away for reference and decided that in the morning, he’d let Rodney off the hook entirely. He was too tired just then to say it right, even if he’d long since made his peace, but maybe it needed to be said.

His breathing was just deep and even enough that Rodney likely thought he was asleep when John heard, “This. This helps.”

John stared into the dark for a long time, agreeing very quietly.