Atlantis and Psych Cafeteria

ISYSWASFM 2/?

2009-09-29T04:49:50Z

I've posted chapter two.

Title: I Scream, You Scream, We All Scream for Murder
Chapter 2: There's not such thing as too much ice cream
Author: Tazmy
Description: After accepting a case from an unlikely source, Shawn joins a cult.

Type: humor, mystery, adventure

Link takes you to the table of contents.

Fic Meme

2009-09-27T20:34:19Z

Okay, I was reading through stories of mine and it got me in a contemplative mood. These questions are a result. I'd love to hear your answers as well! Post on your LJ or in comments.

Fic Meme

1. Which of your fanfics is your absolute favorite? Turtle and Rodney's Atlantis Adventure (SGA) I love to go back and read it a million times over because I was so manic when I wrote it. (It's the second in a series of stories)

2. Which of your fanfics is your greatest disappointment? Victory or Death. (SGA) I took it down shortly after having finished. Due to a miscarriage and the story dealing with children I just couldn't handle it anymore. I finished it but only out of necessity and the ending was weak.

3. Which of your fanfics are you the most proud of or amazed by? Between The Lines of Fear and Blame (Psych) I was rereading this today and I was absolutely floored by chapter 5 especially. I can't believe I wrote it and i don't think I will ever be able to write like that again.

4. Is there a fanfic you loved when you wrote it but now you can't stand it? Weakness (SGA) I wrote it in present tense of all things. I was so excited while I wrote it but now I just look back and notice all the flaws.

5. Is there a fanfic you hated when you wrote it but now you love it? One Beer, Two Beer, Three Beer, Floor (Psych) I wrote it in like 15 minutes and thought I was being lazy. I go back now and I enjoy rereading it.

6. What fandom would you most like to write for, but don't at the moment? Stargate Atlantis. I miss writing for this show so much. Can anyone get my SGA muse back, please?

7. What fandom is your favorite to currently write in? Psych. I don't know. It's not my type of fandom really, but it just keeps calling to me...

8. Which of your fanfics was the most challenging to write? Between The Lines of Fear and Blame (Psych) It just about killed me. Some chapters took one week to write and others two months. It was truly insane and difficult and made me want to cry out of frustration.

9. Which of your fanfics was the easiest to write? Before I Sleep (SGA) This one just came to me right away without any effort whatsoever.

10. Do you prefer to write long or short stories? Both. It's whatever my muse chooses. She's in control, not me. :)

I Scream, You Scream, We All Scream for Murder 1/?

2009-09-26T02:14:22Z

So I managed to finally find the courage to post the first chapter of my new story. Feel anxious as all hell, but here is a link to anyone who may care.

Title: I Scream, You Scream, We All Scream for Murder; Chapter 1: Never Fight Sober and Never Accept Jobs From Convicts
Author: Tazmy
Fandom: Psych
Description: Shawn accepts a case from an unlikely source and ends up joining a cult.
Genre: Humor, Mystery

Notes: Follows after One Beer, Two Beer, Three Beer, Floor but no knowledge of that story is required for this one.

(As for those of you I showed drafts of a story I gave the same name, this one is ENTIRELY different.)

Be still my fan heart....

2009-09-24T01:45:13Z

I haven't heard from Boys II Men, nor thought about them, in forever. But this is just too awesome! Spoilers for Psych episode: High Top Fade Out.

To link you, due to lack of embedding for a while, this will lead you to the Psych facebook page. There should be a vid an entry or so down with Boys II Men in the description.

All Good Stories Start the Same

2009-09-04T04:38:25Z

Title: All Good Stories Start the Same
Author: Tazmy
Characters: Shawn, Gus, Lassiter, O'Hara
Description: In which Shawn and Gus fail at storytelling.

This was written for the amnesty challenge on psychflashfic . I used the challenge: dark and stormy night. Challenges ask for under a 1000 words so this is about 1000 words. While not my first Psychfic, it will be the first one I'm posting on my journal directly.

“It was a dark and stormy night.”

“Shawn!” Gus scoffed while elbowing Shawn’s side.

“What?”

“You can’t start your story that way. It’s a cliché.”

“A cliché that also happens to be true. I can’t help it if it was dark and in fact stormy. It also happened to be night. Would you rather I lied?”

“I’d rather you just told them what happened.”

Gus sipped his hot chocolate, slinking further into the blanket. He sniffled, wondering how much of the wetness below his nose was from postnasal drip and how much was from the water dripping down his hair.

“Look,” Shawn said, placing his own hot chocolate on the coffee table. His feet slid in place right next to the cup. “If you think you can tell the story better, please, be my guest.”

“Fine. I will.”

He opened his mouth to speak, but then Shawn interrupted, “Go ahead.”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do.”

“You’re just delaying because you don’t have an opening.”

"No, you keep interrupting!"

“Will you please just get on with it!” Lassiter gesticulated wildly, nearly throwing his notebook into to the air. Judging by his wild glare, he was one straw short of losing his temper completely. Tiredness had that affect on people, especially Lassiter.

Gus cleared his throat. “We were walking back from the grocery store when Shawn felt something was wrong, but he couldn’t see what.”

“Because it was dark.”

“Yes, because it was dark.”

“And stormy.”

“Shawn!”

“Sorry. I’m done now. Please. Continue.”

Gus paused a moment, waiting to see if Shawn would interrupt him further. When Shawn didn’t speak, Gus continued, “Next thing we know, we hear a woman scream.”

“Boring!”

Juliet was the one to roll her eyes this time. “Just let him talk. It’s late.”

“I’m sorry, but his storytelling lacks flare. Where’s the suspense? You don’t just say 'we heard a woman scream' you say 'a terrible scream penetrated the night'.

“It’s a police report, Spencer. Not a novel.”

“You never know. Someday our adventures could be a bestselling, New York Times, award winning, awesome novel. With a double emphasis on awesome, by the way. Now how is that supposed to happen if all Gus can say is, 'we heard a woman scream'. I repeat: Boring.”

Gus glared, about as ready to lose his temper as Lassiter seemed to be. The small hand on the nearby clock inched closer to the three, Gus’s stomach rumbled, and all he really wanted was sleep. Entertaining Shawn’s lame attempts at humor wouldn’t make this end any faster.

“Anyway,” Gus said, elbowing his friend once again. “We heard a scream. We went to check it out. By the time we arrived there was a body and no one else in sight.”

“Because we couldn't see. Because it was dark and stormy.”

“Give it a rest, Shawn.” Juliet begged. Noticing her hunched shoulders and hollow eyes, Gus realized she was as tired as he was.

“You didn’t notice anything strange? No signs that anyone else had been there?”

“Besides the knife sticking out of a corpse?” Shawn asked.

“Yes, besides that,” Lassiter answered through gritted teeth.

“No, not really, but the Spirits are currently sleeping. I’ll ask them in the morning if they managed to see anything. I think you’ll find their storytelling styles vary greatly in comparison to my own, but thankfully are nothing like Gus’s.”

Lassiter and Juliet exchanged weary and frustrated glances before both standing up.

“Come by the station tomorrow,” Juliet told them. “For now, just dry off and get some rest. If you think of anything important, let us know immediately.”

“Don’t worry. We will.”

As the two detectives exited, Gus turned toward Shawn. “What is wrong with you?”

The humor immediately fell out of Shawn’s expression. He rubbed his eyes wearily. “Did you see how tired they were?”

“Yeah. They’ve been up for days trying to catch this serial killer. So have we.”

“Exactly. Days, Gus. Everyone needs sleep. Even Jules and Lassie.”

“So what, you were annoying them into leaving? What about the case?”

“The case will be there tomorrow. We could sit here all night and look at details if they think something is there, but they’ll only find out there is nothing, which you and I already know. This way they just leave.”

Gus frowned. “So you were being annoying for the greater good?”

“Annoying? I was being smart for the greater good. I’m serious about that novel, Gus. We could make millions.”

Gus eyed the clock warily. He knew if he gave any answer, any at all, Shawn would immediately respond back with a quip. They’d easily end up arguing the whole night.

Gus hugged the blanket closer to himself, holding back a sneeze. “I’m going to bed.”

“What, now? You can’t leave?” Shawn pouted, glancing quickly out the window.

“Why not?” Gus threw a blanket and pillow toward his friend. If Shawn had any intention of spending the night in his own apartment, he would have already left.

“It’s a dark and stormy night, Gus. Dark and Stormy. How do we know it’s safe?”

“Good night, Shawn.”

Gus wobbled up to his room, falling against the bed. Just as his eyes began to close, a loud crack of thunder shook his house. It wasn’t that he was afraid of thunder exactly, it was just…well…it’d been a long night and he could still picture that dead lady and thunder didn’t help matters any.

He scurried downstairs and Shawn smiled knowingly. “So you ready to hear a story?” Shawn asked.

Gus nodded reluctantly. “As long as it doesn’t start with—“

“It was a dark and stormy night,” Shawn interrupted. “Not a creature was stirring. Not even a mouse.”

Gus considered arguing, but decided against it. Instead he leaned back and listened to the nonsensical story. If nothing else, it would help him fall asleep.

Feeling better faith wise....thanks to...Psych?

2009-08-31T04:06:00Z

First, I wrote a new story. Since many of you don't check Psychfic but still like to look out for my work, I am posting a link again:

Title: Details and Demons
Author: Tazmy
Fandom: Psych
Characters: Mostly Shawn, some Gus
Description: Five times Shawn didn't go to confession and the one time he did

Second, strange as it may sound, I think Psych may have helped me with my whole faith issue.

After seeing Shawn go to confession, I was really feeling like I wanted to go to confession. I wrote a tag/missing scene to fill in the blanks for Shawn's confession, but it only got me thinking more about how I wanted to go. Unfortunately, I just couldn't go yesterday. Maybe next week?

Anyway....Today I was talking to an ex-Catholic about the episode. We'd normally never talk faith, but well, the episode brought it up with the whole confession thing so we started talking. And as I talked, I realized so much of why I'm Catholic. So with Church on the brain, I actually went tonight. Amazingly the homily was on confession and on not getting so down on seeing the things we/others do wrong that we miss what is right. What defiles us doesn't come from the outside, but the inside.

It was a beautiful service and it's hard to say how much better/lighter I felt afterward. I really want to go to confession next week, now.

So strangely enough, I'm feeling a lot better. I still want to talk to someone and to think a lot, but in the end, I am Catholic.

Between the Lines of Fear and Blame 10/10

2009-08-21T16:25:27Z

That's right. 10/10. I'm done! I finally finished my story. It only took me FOREVER! LOL. To be honest, I'm sorta really proud of myself for seeing this through. *faints*

Title: Between the Lines of Fear and Blame
Author: Tazmy
Fandom: Psych
Characters: Everyone
Warnings: Sensitive Issue (child death)
Word Count: ~40,000

Description: It's been two months since the chief's child was murdered. With the killer still at large, everyone must band together and try to heal, even as fear and guilt keep them apart.

Chapter 1: Words Unsaid

...

Chapter 10. New Beginnings

....

Table of Contents

Crack!Fail and other gaming hilarities

2009-06-19T14:58:18Z

So last night a ton of people came over to out house for our monthly game night. We decided to play a game called Domain, only the one person reading the directions forgot a key piece...money. The game was horribly unbalanced if not a hilarious farce. Imagine, if you will, Monopoly without paying to buy a property. Socialized Monopoly, perhaps? Just think about that for a moment...

You can imagine that this revelation was quickly followed by tons of outright cheating and craziness. At one point I grabbed the pile of cards we were supposed to draw blindly from and just grabbed whatever I felt like.

I decided I needed to write crack!fic involving Monopoly. Alas, my muse did not cooperate. Instead it gave me light hurt comfort. Hmmmph. At least the h/c was mild.

Title: While We Were Waiting
Fandom: Psych
Characters: Shawn, Gus, Lassie
Description: Soon they would be able to visit Juliet and see for themselves that she was okay. Until then, there was always Monopoly.

I still can't believe I FAIL at writing crack. *shakes head sadly*

sgatazmy @ 2009-04-14T07:32:00

2009-04-14T14:35:39Z

Yesterday's entry was a compete lie. I ended up writing something!

Title: Know When To Walk Away
Show: Psych
Characters Shawn, Lassie, Jules
Description: No one has a perfect record. Eventually a case was bound to come along that Shawn couldn't solve.

Written for the April 2007 Challenge on psychfic. Requirements: Saturday Night Special. Must include music, money, and murder.

new psychfic

2009-03-30T03:35:47Z

Title: One Beer, Two Beer, Three Beer, Floor
Author: Tazmy
fandom: Psych
Description: Gus warned Shawn not to take anymore of those cheating boyfriend cases. Too bad Shawn didn't listen.

Written for the Whumpathon.

SGA fanfic

2009-03-03T08:33:06Z

It was horrors to write, and maybe not my best, but I did it. I wrote something.

SGA Story for the Farewell Atlantis Ficathon

Thanks to friendshipper for the beta. :)

Katie

2008-01-04T07:35:20Z

Title: Katie
Description: Set in season three. Rodney's in the infirmary again and Sheppard meets Katie for the first time.
Word Count: less than 2,000 words

Apologies for only posting on fanfiction.net. Time is short, alas.

I really need a Katie/Rodney icon...

fic

2007-08-26T01:16:59Z

Here's a story exclusive to this journal for now. It's not beta'd and just plain silly, but I'm desperate to write something!

Title: Another Brilliant Escape Plan
Author: Tazmy
Characters: Sheppard, Rodney, Ronon
Description: There had to be some way to get past Ronon.

Notes: A reference or two to John and Rodney's Mainland Adventure, but nothing major

Ronon was a traitor. As far as Sheppard was concerned, the Satedan’s actions amounted to nothing less than betrayal. The problem was that Ronon was larger than him, smart enough to not fall for any plan Sheppard or Rodney concocted, and was neither injured nor compromised. Damn.

“Maybe if we both run at the same time, one of us can escape?” McKay whispered. A sling held his left arm tight against his chest, and Sheppard hadn’t managed to stop laughing every time he caught sight of Rodney’s eye patch. Not that Sheppard was much better off. His right leg was hidden beneath layers of white and strands of his hair stuck out beneath the bandages tied around his head.

Glancing at his leg, he knew why Rodney had suggested running. There was little doubt who would be able to bolt the fastest and who would be left to take the rap. “Gee, thanks for your support, Rodney.”

“Right, and I suppose you have a better suggestion?”

“No.”

“So why not—“

“No.”

“You’re no fun.”

When it came down to it, they weren’t going anywhere. Elizabeth had seen to that when she put Ronon on guard duty. Why she didn’t trust them to remain in the infirmary, Sheppard pretended not to understand, though the memory of a giant turtle was surely fresh in her mind. So they had stolen a shuttle once. Only once! It didn’t mean they were going to try escaping the infirmary every time, did it? They didn’t need to be watched like troublesome children.

“We could throw something and hope it knocks him out?”

Sheppard gave an incredulous stare. “As far as plans go, that has to be the lamest one I’ve ever heard.”

“Well you come up with one then! You supposedly have a brain, try putting it to use, Mr. ‘I passed the Mensa test’.”

“You passed it to.”

“Yeah, but I still think you’re lying.”

Sheppard reached for his pillow and threw it at his accomplice.

“You’re childish activities only prove my point.”

Sheppard wasn’t surprised when the pillow came back, hitting him in the face. A moment later is was in the air again. Only it didn’t collide with Rodney but with a full glass of water that had been on a nearby tray. Rodney squealed as he tried to push away from the wet covers. “What was that for?”

“You started it!”

“Stop it or I’m coming over there.” Ronon stood in the doorway with his arms crossed. Despite himself, Sheppard sank into his covers. Ronon was great when he was on your side, not so much when he wasn’t.

“Right,” Rodney answered in a raised voice, “and what are you going to do? Glare at us menacingly?”

“Don’t try me.”

“Why? You won’t hurt us.” Rodney, stuck in the infirmary for three days, wasn’t going to back down. Sheppard knew that look, the determined face of annoyance where if someone was going to keep him here, they were going to regret it. “And last I checked, weren’t you supposed to be on our side? Same team, hello? Since when are you Elizabeth’s pawn?”

Ronon growled, and Sheppard instinctively moved toward Rodney as if to protect him. “Whoa there big guy.”

“You’re both idiots.”

Rodney’s jaw dropped. “Did you just call me an idiot? You?”

“Rodney,” Sheppard warned.
“He called me an idiot? Him! Mr. Primitive Bafoon!”

Ronon half-smiled, his arms still crossed. “I’m not dumb enough to race into caves without checking for traps.”

“Right, like we were supposed to know!”

“Should have looked.”

Ronon’s stare fell to Rodney’s injured arm and Sheppard’s injured leg. There was worry there, behind the humorous gaze.

“We’re fine now. What do you say you let us go to the pier for a while before Carson comes looking for us.”

“No.”

“C’mon! We’re a team. That’s what team members do for each other!” Rodney prodded.

“Thought we looked out for each others well being.”

“This is for my well being,” Sheppard interrupted. “Keeping us here is only making things worse, can’t you see that?”

The infirmary was a black hole that kept sucking them in, keeping them from living. Sheppard was sick of being injured. Sick of putting up with the antiseptic smell. He wanted out and he wanted out now. “Look, buddy, you know what it’s like. Show some compassion.”

Ronon didn’t move from his spot, but the worry in his eyes was now stronger than any other emotion. “Carson said you weren’t strong enough yet.”

Rodney was the one to reply. “What does Carson know? I’m the genius remember? We’re talking and moving aren’t we?”

“Yeah.”

Ronon’s resolve was waning, Sheppard could tell in the way he kept glancing behind him as if hoping Carson would come and relieve him of his duties. It was time to cue the puppy dog faces.

“C’mon. Do this for us. For your team.”

Ronon took a step forward. “Just to the pier?”

“That’s all. A quick trip to the pier and back.” Sheppard kept his fingers crossed behind his back.

“Why don’t I trust you?”

Cue larger puppy dog face.

“You’re up to something.”

Sheppard put on his best affronted face. “No I’m not.”

“What makes you think that?” Rodney squeaked, lifting his chin into the air and not meeting Ronon’s eyes.

“’Cause you are.” Ronon settled back against the doorway, watching them carefully.

“Some teammate you are,” Rodney sulked. Sheppard almost expected him to stick out his tongue.

Ronon didn’t answer, but Sheppard thought he saw the Satedan’s eyes roll.

That’s when it hit him. “Rodney, I have a plan,” he whispered, despite the fact Ronon was looking right at them.

“Oh?”

“Just do what I do.” Then sitting up straight he began to sing loudly, “99 ships of wraith in the sky. 99 ships of wraith. Shoot one down; load the next round. 98 ships of wraith in the sky…”

If anything, Rodney belted the words louder, swinging his good arm to the beat.

Ronon, unfazed, grabbed a nearby magazine.

They continued until 60, and Sheppard could see Ronon gripping the magazine tighter with each verse. Finally, Ronon put the magazine down and moved forward. Rodney and Sheppard both took this as a cue to sing louder. Ronon gave his wicked, twisted grin that he used for special intimidations. He reached with his hands and Sheppard had to keep himself from wincing. Rodney was right; Ronon wouldn’t hurt them, but he was good at playing as if he might.

Ronon’s hands didn’t make contact with either of them, instead he grabbed a chair, turned it around and straddled it. “59 ships of wraith in the sky…” Ronon’s voice topped both of theirs, belted out as strongly and brusquely as his fists usually moved. For a moment, Sheppard and Rodney were shocked into silence. The intent had been to annoy, not to invite Ronon to join. His voice was, truth be told, unbearable and so loud that there was no hope of tuning him out. Not to mention, Sheppard had never heard someone so off key before.

There were only two choices. Give up on this tact, or sing louder. Well, it was something to do. Sheppard joined back in on 58 and McKay came in on 57, though he was attempting to cover his ears with his only good arm.

“Why are we still singing?” He shouted after 56.

“Trust me!” Sheppard called, though his voice was quickly growing hoarse. At least he had both hands available for minimizing the sound.

At verse 50, someone busted into the infirmary, though the three did not hear him. Sheppard noticed the movement from the corner of his eyes, and then nudged Rodney.

Ronon noticed their stares and immediately grew silent, turning around.

“What the bloody hell is this racket?” Carson was fuming. His face was red, and giant, pink earmuffs covered his ears.

“Ready to let us out yet?” Sheppard asked.

Ronon grinned, and Sheppard wondered if he’d known this was going to happen. He wasn’t about to let them out after the George incident, not unless Carson gave the all clear anyway.

“You lot are the…” Carson seemed at a loss for words. “You’re a lot of trouble is what you are.”

“So why not let us get out of your hair?” McKay asked.

Just for show, Sheppard opened his mouth, taking in a giant gulp of air. He’d only managed to get 49 out before Carson shouted “Go! Go! Back in one hour and don’t even think of going anywhere but the pier. Got it?”

“Thanks doc!” they echoed in unison.

“And Ronon’s going with you. Don’t you try to give him the slip or never again, you understand me?”

Sheppard and Rodney grinned, nearly jumping into their wheelchairs.

“See I told you I’d come up with a plan.”

“That was a plan?” Rodney asked, tipping back in his chair.

“It worked.”

“It was my plan,” Ronon added.

Sheppard smiled. Maybe Ronon wasn’t that big of a traitor after all, just a really bad singer, for which Sheppard was very grateful.

“Just remember, try anything and I shoot you.”

Ronon tapped his stunner for show. Rodney and Sheppard shrugged. They’d made it past the infirmary, the rest would be easy.

Carson Fic

2007-08-15T16:26:47Z

After writing a long, suspense story, I decided to go for something short and light. Maybe even sappy.

Title: Healing
Author: Tazmy
Beta: Big thanks to Kodiak for the quick beta!!
Characters: Rodney, Carson (Friendship)

Description: Shortly after the Hive, Rodney watches over Carson.

Fanfiction.net. link

Carson was half- asleep when he heard the door chime. Pulling his covers closer to him, he closed his eyes, determined to ignore it. The chime came again, followed by a loud, pounding knock. Groaning, Carson shuffled out of bed, keeping the blanket wrapped around him. Kneeling to the floor, he grabbed a discarded shirt, but didn’t put it on.

“What do you want?” Carson asked, his tone harsh. He sniffled loudly, blowing his nose on the old, stained shirt.

Rodney, chin in the air, and completely oblivious to Carson’s need for him to go away, took this as an invitation to enter. “I have a stomachache. Just lost half of my lunch, anyway, and I was worried maybe I had what you had. What do you think?”

Carson stared incredulously at the intruder. “This isn’t the infirmary, Rodney. I’m sure Dr. Biro would be more than happy to--”

“Right. We both know I’m not going to let anyone but you practice any of your mystical medicinal practices on me. So go on, tell me, am I going to die?”

Carson, frustrated as he was, couldn’t help but examine Rodney in a quick glance. The scientist didn’t even look tired, much less sick. “Go away.”

“Nope, sorry, I can’t do that. Fact is that as long as you’re skiving off from your infirmary duties, I have to bug you here. Sorry, but that’s just the way it’s got to be.”

Carson moaned, his own sneeze interrupting him. He knew Rodney was obtuse, but this was ridiculous. He eyed his bed with longing and actually considered having the Marines throw his unwanted visitor out, when he realized something. Rodney talked as much with his hands as his voice, and yet his arms had stayed behind his back the entire time. Shifting slightly, Carson tried to catch a glance of whatever he was hiding.

Rodney, noticing this, backed away. “You’re heartless, Carson, you know that? I could be dying and all you care about is yourself. Please, you only have the sniffles. And a fever… Is your skin normally that color?”

As he talked, he moved toward one of the counters, bringing whatever was behind his back in front of him. Dishes clanged together exacerbating Carson’s headache.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Making myself at home. Sounds like I’ll be here for a while.”

“Oh no you won’t be. Do the words sleep mean anything to you?”

A strange scent filled the room. Carson tried to sniff, but his nose was too plugged. Nevertheless, some of the chicken aroma had gotten through. Before Carson could process this, Rodney held up a steaming bowl of soup with a spoon in it.

“I happened to stop by the mess hall on the way here and Elizabeth insisted I have some of her homemade soup. Of course, I wasn’t interested. Since I’m here, I suppose you should have some. So come on already.” He motioned to one of the chairs. “Eat.”

Rodney set the bowl in front of Carson. Carson smiled. It had been a while since anyone had taken care of him. The soup, however, looked anything but appetizing. “I appreciate what you’re doing, but I’m not hungry, and if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather sleep.” He was so tired, it was taking all of his energy just to stay awake. When he closed his eyes he saw dancing lights beckoning him toward the dream world.

“Food first, then sleep. Try to fight me on this, and I’ll bring in Ronon. He’s not as nice as I am.”

With no other choices to be made, Carson reluctantly took a seat and brought the spoon to his lips. It took a few blows before the soup was cool enough to eat. After only two bites, he fell back against his chair, exhausted.

“Keep eating,” Rodney ordered. He strode to the other side of the room and began placing scattered laundry in a nearby basket. He then grabbed a blanket and leveled it against the now clear floor.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Well I have to sleep somewhere, don’t I?”

“These are my quarters! Why would you sleep here?”

Rodney left his chore to take a seat by Carson. “Listen, I understand you not wanting to be in the infirmary, and I know you hate stuff like this, but you need someone to take care of you. Either I stay here or Biro drags your butt down there. Which do you prefer?”

“Aye, I get your point. Though it’s just a cold. I don’t see why all the fuss.”

Rodney laughed, shaking his head. “Do you have any idea how many times Sheppard has told you the same thing? As have all of us for that matter.”

Carson stared at the bits of chicken stock circling his broth, not wanting to have this conversation. He noted how cool it looked when the soggy carrots hit the peas. Sort of like mice running into walls.

He didn’t remember closing his eyes, but he must have because he didn’t see anything when he felt a hand touching his face. “Carson?” Rodney called, though his voice sounded a thousand miles away.

“Let me sleep,” Carson mumbled, hitting the hand away.

“You’re burning up. Did you check your temperature?”

“Fever. No big deal.” Though Rodney’s hand felt like ice and he felt so very tired. “Go away.” He could still see the soup in his mind, but it now looked more like an abstract painting than food. The peas were smiling at him.

Something was shoved in his ear and Carson didn’t object. The laughing carrots were so much more interesting anyway. There were a few beeps and then Rodney yelped about something and then started talking to someone completely different, maybe it was the carrots?

…

Rodney stared at the thermometer, terrified. “Dr. McKay to the infirmary.”

“Go ahead.”

“Carson’s fever’s spiked. 104.3.”

“We’ll be right there.”

Rodney dabbed a nearby piece of laundry into his water glass then dabbed it against Carson’s burning skin. This wasn’t good. And what was he doing holding onto the sick man? “Oh no no no. I am not going to get this. I want absolutely no part in whatever the heck is wrong with you. I’m so doomed. You can’t hear me, can you?” He looked at Carson, who, if not asleep, was at least motionless. “Of course you can’t. You’re sick and probably dying. Oh no, you can’t…you…um…this sucks. Just, uh, hold on. They’ll be here soon and everything will be good.”

Dr. Biro entered with a medical team. They eased Carson onto a gurney and took off before acknowledging that Rodney had even been standing there. One nurse remained, a tall blond that Rodney secretly had a crush on. “You should probably come with us,” Cindy said.

Rodney didn’t hesitate. He’d been planningplanned on going anyway. On the trip to the infirmary he called Sheppard and company to let them know what was happening. Five minutes later they were all there and waiting for news.

One hour later, they were still waiting.

“Do I feel warm to you?” Rodney asked Teyla, scooting closer to her so she could feel his forehead.

“You feel normal.”

“You sure? Because it’s warm in here. Definitely warm, maybe even hot.”

He thought of Carson, burning up somewhere. The nurses had been seen carrying cooling blankets behind the curtained area. What if Carson’s brain fried?

Two hours later, Dr. Biro left the secluded section. Rodney and team stood up. “Did you really have to wait this long to tell us anything. I mean, that seems cruel, don’t you think?”

“Rodney,” Sheppard warned beside him.

Rodney opened his mouth to speak again, but the doctor cut him off. “We’ve managed to bring down the fever, but we haven’t found the cause. Our only clue is that Atlantis’s quarantine procedures haven’t activated, so it’s probably not an airborne virus. I’ll let you know when we know more.”

Rodney, Ronon, Teyla, and John all exchanged worried glances.

“Can we stay with him?” John asked.

Biro smiled, knowing full well the relationship Carson had with Sheppard’s team. “Sure, I don’t see why not.”

It had only been a month since Rodney had overdosed on the enzyme. Carson had stayed by his side nonstop. Of course, Rodney hadn’t been aware of it at the time, but when he had found out…well, it had meant a lot.

Watching Carson, sick and fevered, Rodney was determined to return the favor. It wouldn’t be the same. For one, Carson wasn’t shouting ridiculous, horrible things at him, but it was something.

Rodney grabbed a nearby magazine and began to read, until he had finished all that were available. The infirmary lights dimmed. Even his team had bid goodnight. Still, Rodney sat there, staring at his friend, holding his hand now that no one else could see the gesture.

For two days he refused to move, accepting only offers of coffee and jello.

“You’re going to make yourself sick,” Biro told him, but Rodney refused to listen. Carson’s fever, though controlled, was still averaging 102.6 and a cause was yet to be determined. John, Teyla, and Ronon came and waited throughout the day, but Rodney alone stayed through the night. Normally, they would have done shifts, but Rodney insisted on staying and no one was going to make him leave.

Biro’s patience was waning, and she now seemed as determined to kick him out as he was to stay. “I mean it. I don’t need two patients. Go to your quarters. Rest.”

“You can’t make me.”

“No, but I can.” It was Ronon, backed by Teyla and John. All of them were staring at Rodney as though he were the sick one.

“I’m fine.”

“Rodney, please, you cannot continue to do this,” Teyla pleaded. “I am sure Carson would not want you making yourself ill.”

“I said I’m fine!” he shouted louder than he had meant to. Truth was, he was feeling tired and achy, his body never meant to stay in one place for so long. Mostly he kept thinking about all the wonderful things Carson had done for him and how, if given the chance, he’d gladly take his place.

His team left at some point, leaving behind a hot bowl of soup, which Rodney couldn’t bring himself to eat. Then he turned his focus back on Carson, grabbing his hand once more.

Rodney had never had a best friend before, much less five of them. He felt a terrible pain in his stomach every time one of them was ill. He’d do anything for them. Anything, especially if it would make them better. And Carson…Carson had been his first real friend.

Ronon returned an hour later. “Either eat or I carry you out of here.”

Rodney didn’t understand the fuss. Did they not often have late night sessions watching over one another? True, Rodney was refusing any break, but he had thought his team would understand.

On the third day, Biro explained that they were no closer to figuring things out than they were on day one. The team did not leave that night.

On the fourth day, Elizabeth and Radek had joined their vigil, though few words were spoken between any of them. Even Rodney remained silent, no longer feeling the energy to talk. It looked as though they’d really lose him…

On the sixth day, Carson’s fever began to drop. Rodney was the first to see his eyes open, filled with a clarity that hadn’t been there over the last week. Rodney squeezed his hand before letting go and waking the others.

“You lot haven’t been sleeping in my infirmary, have you?” Carson chastised, though his voice was weak and there was no real frustration in his voice.

“And sleep on one of your backbreaking cots?” Rodney asked. “I don’t think so.”

Secretly, he was so relieved he felt he could jump over a thousand walls and take down a Wraith or two along the way. Where the doctors could find no cure, apparently Carson’s immune system had fought the good fight and won. It made sense, really, that Carson would heal himself against all odds since he’d done it for others so many times before.

“Aye, well you’ve been here long enough. Go get some food in you, and don’t bother coming back until you’ve had eight hours rest or I’ll have Biro throw you out.”

Rodney smiled. Even as a patient, Carson sounded like a doctor.

Rodney returned to his quarters shortly after and slept. Flashes of his stay in the infirmary, crazed and yelling, continued to haunt him. When he awoke, he found himself back at Carson’s side.

Carson’s eyes were closed, his breathing even. “I never got to thank you for um…you know…after the enzyme. If it weren’t for you, I’d be… I should probably apologize for the things I said, but you know me, coward.” He waved his hands in the air before finally pointing at himself.

“You’re not a coward and there’s not need to apologize.”

Rodney jumped back. “Oh, you’re awake.”

“Aye.”

“Oh. Um, I wasn’t actually talking to you, I was…”

Carson emerged from beneath his blanket, blinking tiredly. “The important thing is that you survived the enzyme, Rodney. Anything you might have said, it doesn’t matter. And you’re welcome, by the way. I wasn’t going to not stay by you, though, you know that.”

Rodney clenched the side of his chair, his eyes downcast. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to sleep.”

“Right. I’ll just be going then.” He moved to leave, but Carson’s hand grabbed for his arm.

“Thank you, Rodney.”

“For what?”

“For everything. Now go away.”

Rodney took his cue, leaving the infirmary feeling a little lighter. Carson was recovering and so was he. Soon all would be well.

The End

Beneath the Ancestral Stars by Tazmy

2007-06-19T16:22:30Z

Title: Beneath the Ancestral Stars
Author: Tazmy
Genre: Stargate Atlantis post mid season three finale;Gen
Characters: Teyla
Word Count: 1800

Description: Teyla has always had faith in the Ancestors.

Author Notes: Thank you so much to Kodiak Bear, Sholio, and ang w for the wonderful betas. You are the best and I am lucky to have you for friends and betas; This story assumes that the Athosians are no longer on the Mainland, but have settled in a place called New Athos.

Beneath the Ancestral Stars

There is an old Earth story that Elizabeth once related to me over tea. It is an Ancient story of a people that were lead away from slavery and death into a promised land. “You are the Moses of your people, Teyla,” Elizabeth had told me, even as I wondered if taking my people to the land of the Ancestors had been a mistake. Did any of us have the right to be here?

That was long ago, however, and Elizabeth and I rarely found time for tea anymore. Much had changed, and sometimes her words came back to haunt me. Moses guided his people home, but all of mine returned to lands not free from the Wraith, and I could not be with them; I could not keep them safe.

Tendrils of smoke wafted into the night sky, reaching up to the ancestral stars as though bringing the lost souls to their final destination. My team and many others from Atlantis raced through the devastation, trying to find any who might have survived, helping those who managed only to be wounded. The culling here had been thorough, and I do not know if enough of New Athos survived to begin again. Perhaps I must once more take up my staff and lead those that are left into safety, or will I do so only to fail them once again?

We had helped many cultures recover after a culling, and sometimes the faces were all too familiar, but this was my family. I did not try to stop the tears from falling as I took Halling’s hand, gazing at his distant eyes. They saw only the stars above. He breathed slightly, and the medic nearby gave me the signal that there was no hope. I removed my jacket, placing it carefully beneath his head.

“I am sorry,” I told him, for there was little else to be said. Fed on by a Wraith, he looked old and worn, his hand little more than bone.

“It is not your fault,” he managed to mumble between heavy breaths. Reaching into my vest, I took out a small vial and anointed his head, asking the Ancestors to guide his journey home. Halling was always a man of great faith and I knew he would appreciate the prayer. “Thank you,” he whispered, his hand growing limp. I closed his eyes, stopping only for a moment to pray once more. There was no sign of Jinto near his father, and I could only hope that he was with the missing survivors and not among the dying. The circle of life was cruel.

The Wraith were always a part of life from when I was a little child to when I grew up to fight with the Earth people. Many of us dared not dream of a world without the Wraith, but I had always been the stubborn child. “We will find a way to end this,” I had told my father all those years ago.

He merely laughed, nodded his head and said, “If anyone could do it, it would be you, my daughter.”

But I did not. The battlefield spread out before me proved this. The Wraith still culled, prowling our galaxy with their evil intents, and though we had done much to fight them, my people still lay dying at my feet. I moved to the next injured soul, only to see the light fade from his eyes. I anointed Jacob all the same. Let the Atlantians handle the wounded for now; today I had a different job.

“You must stay strong,” I told Sartyl, the medicine woman of New Athos. I had never liked it when Father took me to see her, but watching her lying on the ground, threading the line between life and death, I could not help but feel chilled. This woman had saved many of us, had comforted me after my mother’s death, and had held many of our hands through illness. She did not deserve this fate.

“Fear not, Teyla. It is to a far better place that we go. You lead us well.”

I prayed to the Ancestors every night, even on missions. John did not understand, but he let me be. Ronon sometimes joined me. Rodney, well, Rodney never tolerated much in the way of religion.

“After everything you’ve learned about them, you still look to them as if they’re gods? You’re not an ignorant primitive anymore, you should--”

Whatever Rodney meant to say was lost to me. I had grabbed his arms tightly, locking them behind his back in a quick swing. He cried out in pain, more than I am sure he was actually in. “I do not insult your beliefs, Rodney, you will not insult mine.”

Except for a few mutters here or there, it was the last time Rodney interrupted my meditations. I could see in John’s eyes that he agreed with Rodney, but he had always been smart enough to know when to let things be. John might not have understood, but he never said anything, not even to berate me for attacking Rodney. I knew I should not have lost my temper, but sometimes my beliefs were all that I had.

Did the Ancestors watch over us? Was it true that they took such a small interest in their children’s lives? Or was it simply that they knew that it was best to let their children be?

“Why do the Ancestors let the Wraith hurt us?” I had asked Charin shortly after my father’s death.

“It is not our way to question them, only to know that they have our best interests at heart.”

I continued to anoint the heads of the dying, even as the same questions passed through my mind. I had been taught that evil was allowed to exist because without the darkness one could not see the light, but I saw little purpose in letting the Wraith continue. How much family did I have to lose before the Ancestors decided it was enough?

So many faces. All of them my family and all of them so dear. They had looked up to me. Had made me their leader, and I had abandoned them to fight a cause that had called to me all of my life, since my earliest memory. “As the Ancestors have blessed you in life, may they also bless you in death,” I whispered beside each body. “May all your pain cease and may you find hope in the new world that awaits you.”

The words were not empty. I had heard them many times in my life and each utterance of the prayer gave me comfort and hope. But sometimes I feared that my heart was not always in it. The Ancestors had come to Atlantis, forcing me, my team, and all that dwelled there to pack up and leave. In their ignorance, they were destroyed, and though I was loath to admit it, some of my faith shattered that day.

Just as it was both comforting and breaking me as I played priest to the dying.

“Why?” I cried, once all the bodies had been seen to, and I had retired to somewhere private. “Why don’t you stop this?” The tears streaming down my cheeks boiled in my stomach. I felt empty and sad, stifled by a sorrow that would abate but would never truly go away.

I stared up into the ancestral stars, breathing in the sparkling lights. I knew I would receive no verbal answer, but I could feel the Ancestors holding me, comforting me. I knew it was not my imagination, for I had felt this before.

“You are touched,” the village priest had told me. “You are blessed among our people, destined to provide for us.” That was the day I had accepted the staff, the day that I became a leader.

“Have I failed them?” I asked, brushing away the tears and sweat, smudging the dirt on my face. “What am I to do for them now? If ever there was a time for your guidance, I could use it now.”

A cool wind brushed past me, soothing away the warmth from the fires. I stared at the devastation, shaking. I could hear my teammates calling for me, but I did not answer. They would try to comfort me, and comfort was not what I needed—not what I wanted. I just wanted to be alone.

The survivors were to be brought back to Atlantis. They would need me to be strong. In the here and now, alone, this was my time, for as short as it would last, to just break down—to ask why.

Did Moses ever experience this? I would have to ask Elizabeth.

“Teyla!” This last voice was not of my teammates or anyone else from Atlantis. Young, but still low, it came from Jinto.

“I am here,” I answered, allowing relief to hold me. They had found survivors.

“Teyla!” Jinto looked uninjured as he ran to me, grasping his arms tightly around me. He had grown to be so tall and his voice had broken. Could this really be Jinto?

I patted his back lightly. “We were worried about you.”

“Is it true? Is it true what they said? Is father dead?”

I had asked the same question so long ago, and it stung to hear it again. I nodded, barely managing to say, “Yes. I am sorry for your loss, but I am also glad that you are alive.”

Jinto wept while I continued to hold him, controlling my own sorrow. Glancing up, I saw Rodney, John, and Ronon watching us while trying to keep their distance.

“How many?” I asked, though I was afraid to know.

“Forty,” John replied. He crossed his arms, trying to act nonchalant, but I could see the worry in his eyes. I realized that tears still stained my face; they could now see through my strong facade.

“Then we will thank the Ancestors for their safety,” I replied, more for Jinto to hear than anything else. The boy was shaking in my grasp.

Rodney didn’t say anything, though I saw him roll his eyes. I knew well enough that it was hard to keep faith in desperate times, but I felt sadder for Rodney, a man with nothing to believe in other than science. Was it lonely for him in darker moments? He’d tell me no, but I wouldn’t be so sure.

The forty survivors waited in a clearing, taking what they could on their backs. They would rebuild somewhere as all colonies did after a culling, but for tonight they would go to Atlantis and they would rest. While offering each of them a helpful hand onto the gate platform, I thought of the prayers I would say with them back on Atlantis.

When the last had made it through, I stared up at the ancestral stars, filled with beauty and hope. Then I entered the gate and returned home.

The End

Fanfiction.net Link

A Soldier's Dream

2007-04-10T18:24:24Z

I had to distract myself from my current story, so I wrote one for the Siege III tag challenge at sheps_atlantis. It's not beta'd or anything, just something to distract myself.

Link to the SGA fanfic: A Soldier's Dream

Lime Flavored Pickles and a story

2007-02-25T17:46:32Z

We went to the store the other day and bought some lime flavored pickles. It was the first time I had heard of such a combination and I had a deep desire to try them. The jar was completely finished after two sittings! I need more! Who knew lime and pickles would go together so well?

So, Iamrighthere tried to help me write a story a while back, but in the end I put it on the back burner. It decided to resurface last night in a very different form than originally imagined, but with the theme I wanted. Friendshipper already managed to beta it, so now I present the short vignette to you. I couldn't think of a good title and it's early in the morning, so this is what you get.

Title: Her Brother the Hero (fanfiction.net link, lj link below)
Author: Tazmy
Genre: Stargate Atlantis/gen
Characters: Jeannie, Sheppard
Description: Jeannie never knew Rodney the soldier

fanfiction.net link: Her Brother the Hero

Jeannie never knew Rodney the soldier. Sure she’d known the geeky boy who couldn’t hold his own in a fight but liked to pick on her, or the arrogant scientist who hoarded all credit, and eventually she even knew the caring man that he was deep down, but she’d never known about the other side of him. The part of him that put himself into danger to save others. The part that had learned to shoot a gun and live for days on end as a prisoner or protector. For all that she had come to know of her brother, somehow, somewhere in all of it, she had missed this vital part of who he was.

Mer’s hand was warm within her own. It was only this and the slow, methodical beep of the machinery around him that assured her he was still alive. “A gunshot wound,” the lieutenant that showed up to her door explained. Her hair was held in a tight bun, her shoulders stiff, but her voice held the slightest crack as she explained that Jeannie needed to come with her right away.

The infirmary smelled of antiseptic and blood. Many soldiers had gone to their rest in the heated battle. In the far corner of the infirmary, Mer lay still, surrounded by machines. It was in this corner that Jeannie had planted herself, unwilling to move until Mer did so first.

“A soldier, Mer? A soldier? Fighting aliens with science, that I could accept. But shooting guns and being on the front…You of all people? You who would cry at the slightest bruise? A soldier?” She tightened her grip as though it would keep the tears at bay. “How could you not have told me?”

“Because he didn’t realize. Would have scared the crap out of him if he did.” John’s hand fell onto her shoulder. A simple touch, and yet it meant so much.

Hastily, she brushed away her tears and turned her head toward the military colonel that was such close friends with Mer. And wasn’t that just the strangest thing to think about? Mer with friends. Mer enjoying a life of fighting space monsters and keeping the universe safe. At least she had had time to embrace that the last time she had come, but somehow she never imagined him on the battlefield, facing death on a daily basis. It made her stomach turn just to think about it.

“How is he?” John asked. He was almost as pale as Mer. His unkempt hair spoke of a man that hadn’t taken a shower in days, and Jeannie was sure she didn’t look much better. How long had it been?

“Carson thinks he’ll pull through.”

“Rodney always does.”

Always. As in been there before. As in probably will be there again.

The silence was tangible, accented by each breath that they took. The machines alone continued to make sound. John had yet to remove his hand from her shoulder, though Jeannie could sense that he was uncomfortable with the offering of support.

“Teyla and Ronon were here a few minutes ago. You just missed them.”

“Yeah, I saw them in the hall. They’re, not surprisingly, off to the gym, practicing more ways to kick my ass. Not that I’d ever admit losing to them.”

Jeannie allowed herself a laugh, though nothing felt terribly funny at the moment. Mer’s chest continued to move up and down, and she found reassurance in watching it do so. It was almost hypnotizing.

“Thank you for sending for me. I know it’s not something you’d do for just anyone.”

“Anyone doesn’t have clearance.”

“Exactly.” Her sandals paddled on the floor in time to the machinery beeps, an unconscious display that took too much effort to stop..

“I’m sure he’ll appreciate your coming.”

John moved to the other end of the room, leaning casually against the wall. Staring at Rodney as though his own life would end if Rodney’s did. Carson, Teyla, Ronon, nearly everyone else here had the same look when they came to visit him. What was it Mer had called them? His adoptive family?

“I always thought he was a bad brother. Selfish. Mean. Arrogant.”

John stuffed his hand in his pockets, grinning softly. “Well, let’s face it, he really is a bit of all of that.”

“True.” Her fingers joined the orchestra, tapping on her skirt in cadence to the beeps. “But you and I both know he’s much more. And if it hadn’t been for me coming here before, I might never have known that.”

“What can I say? I’ve just been a good influence on him.”

The monitors displayed the same numbers they had an hour ago and the hour before that. Jeannie watched them just as she watched Mer’s chest. They were something to look at other than his deathly pallor. All she could think of was that he almost died. Had almost died many times before, though she had never known it. All she knew now was that she was scared. She had just gotten him back.

“You said that he was shot while defending a village?”

“We try not to encourage him, and he likes to act more panicked than he really is, but he does like to play hero every now and then.”

“Just like you?”

John pushed away from the wall, looking affronted. “First of all, I don’t panic. Second of all, it’s my job to be the hero. He’s the sidekick.”

“I bet he’d think it was the other way around.”

“Maybe, but he’d be wrong?”

“Careful, he might hear you.”

Though she wished that he would, Mer made no move. Even his heart rate didn’t so much as fluctuate.

“Colonel?”

“Yeah?”

“When did it happen?”

“What’s that?” He glanced at her hand, still holding Mer’s in a tight lock. Jeannie could tell that John wanted to the same, wanted to reach out and comfort his friend, to feel him and know that he was still alive. But he didn’t act on this instinct, and Jeannie wondered if the situation would be different if she was not there.

“When did he become a soldier?”

John didn’t answer at first. Instead he drew in a deep breath, his back once more pressing against the wall. “Hard to say. But I know this much: He never should have had to. Now that he is, he won’t go back. He has too much to fight for.”

“And if he gets killed?”

John wouldn’t meet her gaze, and maybe that was for the best. Gently, he closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I have to go on shift now,” he replied.

As he reached the door, she called out, stopping him mid-bolt. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For giving him a home.”

Fingers dug into her skirt, a silent prayer on her mind. She’d wait for Mer to wake up, and then she’d properly berate him for not mentioning the soldier part before. Then she’d stay by his side, continuing to hold his hand, all the while trading jabs and trying to discern what else there was to learn about her older brother. Her brother the hero.

The Trouble with Turtles 1/2

2007-02-12T05:51:31Z

Part one is now ready for posting! For now, I'm just posting links to fanfiction.net.

This is part four in a series of stories. All of which can be found here.

Title: The Trouble with Turtles: Carson's George Adventure
Author: Tazmy
Characters: Carson, Rodney, John, Everyone
Description: Carson discovers the truth behind George and the mermaids

John and George's Christmas Adventure

2006-12-23T05:31:10Z

First:
A postcard from Shep. Click on the second postcard for larger text.

George didn't actually write the briefing, by the way. But it is our second item...

Second: An SGA fic:

Title: John and George's Christmas Adventure
Author: Tazmy
Characters: John, Teyla, Ronon, Carson, George
Description: A post-phantoms, Christmas, George the Turtle Adventure that is angst and humor. Seriously.

This story was written specially for Kodiak Bear for Christmas. Beta'd by Angw and Friendshipper.

Christmas Past

2006-12-15T07:17:07Z

Okay, so much love to all of you. Your love and support is awesome beyond measure. Let's try this one more time.

Here we go:

Title: Christmas Past (Revised) 1/2
Author: Tazmy
Description: Rodney tries to fix the past, but will he sacrifice thousands to do so? A dark story with a Christmas backdrop.
Chracters: Rodney, John, Teyla, Ronon, Elizabeth, Radek, Carson, and Miko (now that's a mouthful)
Warning: Dark....
Words: Part one: 7,000 Total: 14,633

Now posted at the Jumperbay as well.

Fic: Butter Never Bleeds

2006-12-04T17:15:50Z

Okay, this is something I was writing for an assignment from my writing coach, but then I decided that it wasn't quite what I wanted to fit the prompt. So, instead, I post it here for your enjoyment (or not). It's a VERY short tag to The Storm/The Eye.

Title: Butter Never Bleeds
Word Count: 430
Characters: Mainly McKay
Spoilers: The Storm/The Eye
Description: Butter may not bleed, but Rodney does.

Rodney watched as steel sliced through butter.

“You okay?” Sheppard swiveled the knife on burnt toast, raising concerned eyes to the opposite side of the table.

“I uh, just realized I have some work I should probably be getting to.”

He escaped the messhall as fast as he could without drawing attention. Stopping in the corridor, he leaned against the bulkhead and drew a deep breath. Reaching for his injured arm, he coddled it close to his chest.

Half an hour later and he found himself back at the grounding station. The wind had calmed, but there was enough brushing past to let him know that, yes, he was alive. His panic waning, Rodney stepped up to the rail, glancing at the calm sea below. Just a few days ago, Kolya had held him over the roaring waters as rain pounded against cold skin.

None of that mattered anymore. He had flailed his arms on death’s door and survived, again. Atlantis was saved and today was a new day. So why had he returned to this place every day since the storm? Why couldn’t he just lose himself in his work and forget that any of this had ever happened?

"I tried to keep my mouth shut. I tried…I just couldn’t.”

Well, what did he expect? He was a scientist not a soldier. And shouldn’t the people in the city just be glad that he saved their butts, again?

The air was refreshing. He took it in as a succulent wine, savoring the salty flavor. Truth was that everyone was happy to have the city back. No one blamed him. But that was only because Elizabeth hadn’t said anything to anyone but Heightmeyer and Carson. Rodney’s betrayal was on a need to know basis, and everyone else just didn’t need to know. All that mattered was that they were alive.

Alive. It was such a simple concept and yet so hard to believe. Alive. Breathing. Hoping. Working. Moving. Alive…

His stomach grumbled. He probably shouldn’t have skipped breakfast but the knife…the way it bore into the butter…at least there was no blood.

Butter was not alive. Rodney was. Rodney bled even as he babbled.

Rodney was still breathing and moving, even if it took coming back here to remember that.

The sun was warm against his skin…not like the rain had been. He soaked in the rays, allowing them to caress and comfort him. He held tightly to the rail, a smile donning on his thin lips. For now, it was enough

just to know

he was

alive.

FIN

Wasting Time

2006-11-06T02:16:46Z

Today was a good day. I woke up and I wrote. Now I will have to make up for it tonight and study twice as hard. The good news is that I don't have any Analysis homework due this week! Yay!!! :)

It sounds like it might be a day or two before I hear back on Rodney's Mermaid Adventure. It's all Kodiak's fault that I wrote it because she said it was okay to write about mermaids. So um, you'll have to blame her for the entire insanity of it all!

In other news, I finally posted all of Dreary Night here and not just on fanfiction.net.

Here we go:

Part One
Parts Two and three
Part Four

Messages

2006-10-15T16:52:39Z

Here's a link to Messages, an SGA fanfic I wrote in answer to the flash_fic challenge "Phone calls". Spoilers for the Return I. It's a short snippet.

Title: Messages [phone call challenge]
Author: Tazmy
Description: They left her a lot of messages, she just couldn't answer them. Missing scene for The Return I
Spoilers: The Return I
Rating: G

John Sheppard is a Selfish Bastard

2006-10-07T22:52:27Z

Fixed this entry a bit and retitled the story.

Okay, this one-shot is a gift for my friend Suzie. Don't know if you'll actually like it all that much, but hey, it's the thought that counts, right? Here's to a friendship that lasts through distance and time yet still continues to grow! Happy Belated Birthday!

Genre: As always, Stargate Atlantis. Takes place in season three.

Title: John Sheppard is a Selfish Bastard
Author: Tazmy
Warnings: This is a complete crack fic, just so you know.
Words: about 900
Description: John's injured. Rodney thinks that's rather selfish of him.

With six beta's to choose from, I usually only send my very short fics to one or two people. For this story, I have the wonderful kodiak_bear and iamrighthere to thank! Thanks for such a wonderful job and for teaching me so much about writing while keeping me motivated!

John Sheppard was a selfish bastard. This was the only conclusion Rodney could make as he bandaged an oozing wound belonging to the said Lieutenant Colonel. “Seriously, Colonel, do you think you could litter the floor with more blood? What the hell were you thinking?”

John's eyes were hiding behind a cloudy haze, his voice weak and tight as he spoke, “Sorry, Rodney. Guess I was too busy thinking about saving your life.”

“Oh, that's just rich. Just blame this whole thing on me.”

“You were the one who called the villagers primitive imbeciles. How did you expect them to react?”

Rodney reached for more gauze from the med pack, shaking his head and wishing to hell that help would hurry up and just get there already. “It was a term of endearment. Not my fault if they couldn't see that. This is going to hurt, by the way.”

Sheppard held in the scream, but a moan still escaped his lips as Rodney pressed the field bandage on the second wound.

“You are so not worth this,” Sheppard said.

“I am and you know it. Not that I'm not grateful, but I could have handled myself, you know. I saw the gun. I would have gotten out of the way.”

“Sure you would have.” Sheppard was near unconsciousness, now, and though the unforgiving pain in his arm and shoulder wouldn't stop, he focused on keeping his eyes open. “I'll remember that the next time you decide to piss off an entire village with one gesture.”

“They were wearing pink dresses. All of them! It wasn't like you weren't making fun either, Colonel.”

“Under my breath, McKay, not to their faces.”

“Yes, well I stick to my original conclusion, you're a selfish bastard.”

“I just saved your life!”

“Quite selfishly!”

“You're insane.”

“And you're bleeding. I don't suppose asking you nicely to stop would make a difference?”

Sheppard barely felt Rodney poke him with one of the happy needles, though the medicine would only go so far in dulling the pain. Rodney was mumbling under his breath again, something that sounded like selfish over and over again.

“What are you talking about?”

“Selfish...selfish...I think I've managed to stop the bleeding.”

“Good. I give, McKay, why am I selfish?”

“You really don't know, do you?” Rodney leaned against the cave wall, steadying his breathing and his heart.

“No, McKay. I really don't.”

“You took all the attention away. Now when we get back to Atlantis, everyone is going to be worrying over you and taking care of you. It's rather selfish even for you.”

“Yes, because I'm just the type of person that loves being fussed over. Maybe it's the painkillers, but you're still not making any sense.”

Rodney crossed his arms against his chest, his head rolling forward before he forced it back into place. “I have been awake for the last twenty hours. Twenty! Now, thanks to you, I have to wait for the cavalry to arrive while staying awake to make sure you don't die on me. Do you have any idea how aggravating that is?”

“Don't stay up on account of me.”

“And have you die? No, I don't think so. Selfish, selfish. Not that I expect you to understand why. No one's ever cared before so why should you? Selfish...selfish.”

“Rodney.”

“Yes.”

“Shut up.”

“Hmm, yes, you would follow all of this up with another selfish request.” Rodney scowled again, something about ignorant team leaders who could care less about the members of his team, before a thought came to him and his face grew serious. “You are going to be okay, right? I mean, you could have chosen a better a day to get shot, but if you died...I mean...You are okay, right?”

“Blood notwithstanding, I think so.”

“Good. Good.” Rodney knew not to believe him, but allowed himself to anyway.

Ronon and Teyla arrived less than a minute later with a team of marines and Carson, to which both Sheppard and McKay responded with a sigh of relief.

Carson raced up to the still form first, taking vitals and checking bandages before having Sheppard lifted onto a stretcher. “You're going to be just fine, Colonel. It looks as though Rodney's finally paying attention during first aid lessons.”

“Really? I did a good job? Because you know...”

Ronon stepped forward in the mess, grabbing the Colonel's extra pack. He turned to Rodney with a cryptic, subtle smile. “Ready to go.”

“To say the least. It took you long enough to bring the cavalry.”

“Turns out the pink-dressed villagers were stronger than they looked.”

Teyla kept a look out as she joined in the conversation. “The point is that we are here, now. That being said, there is still one more thing we must address.”

“Oh, really? What is that?”

Ronon's cryptic smile grew as he linked glances with Teyla. Teyla nodded, smiling as well. Teyla approached, bowing her head while grabbing onto Rodney's shoulders. “Happy birthday, Rodney.”

Rodney held back the flush coming to his cheeks. “Ah, yes, um...thank you. However, I'm a little more concerned about Sheppard at the...”

“Wait,” Sheppard’s good arm reached for Rodney’s. “It's Pi Day* again? I didn't realize.”

“Yeah.”

“Ah. Well, I guess that explains things. Happy birthday, McKay. I would have gotten you something, but uh, how about we just say I saved your life today and call it even.”

Beckett inserted something in his arm and then Sheppard was out for the count, so he didn't hear McKay mumble under his breath, “See, what did I tell you? Selfish!”

The End (for now)

* Pi Day: references a much older story of mine. Don't worry too much of the reference if you haven't read it. Yes, I do realize it's not Pi Day, but my friends bday is not in March.

Happy Belated Birthday

to one of my dearest friends!

sgatazmy @ 2006-09-24T22:18:00

2006-09-25T05:33:23Z

Title: Candles in the Dark

Author: Tazmy

Description: The Pegasus galaxy is a scary place, so why does Rodney choose to stick around?

Betas: kodiak_bear, friendshipper, angw, hikari_kodachi

Spoilers: Not many. Probably through the Siege III but this takes place in season three.

Notes: This is not the story I meant to tell, but it’s the one I ended up with. I made some changes after my betas looked at it, so if there are grammar mistakes remaining, that is why. The quote from To Kill A Mockingbird may not be exact, but we can just blame that on Rodney. ;) I also have no idea why my fonts do something funky in the middle. Sorry about that.

Spoiler Alert: While this story doesn't have much in the way of spoilers, the comments area has some for MaMM as well as Phantoms.

He had a dream last night,

the same he had before.

The shadows lost in dark;

the aged black wicks were numb.

Rodney dreamed about the place again last night. It was dark and cold…empty.

Nestling under the blankets—or rather layered sheets, he listened to the gentle hums and beeps of the infirmary. Breathing deeply, he embraced the incense of antiseptic, allowing it to chase away the nightmares. The drip of an IV lulled his eyes closed. He didn’t have the energy to bring consciousness forward, so instead he allowed himself to drift.

It was hard to see in the dark, but he lingered long enough for his eyes to adjust. There were four tables across the room facing a row of six or seven lines of chairs. Each table carried the burden of fifty candles. Too many. The wicks were black, the only source of light coming from a single candle within Rodney’s hands. He reached over, grabbing the candle on the third table, back row, fifth one from the left. He held it, the weight more burdensome than any he had carried before. Tipping one wick into another, he watched as the light became two. He reached for another and did the same.

A ferocious wind howled around him. “No!” he cried, cupping one of the candles into his hands. His efforts were wasted as the solitary flame succumbed to the storm’s power, a single whiff of smoke caressing his palm. Shrouded in darkness, Rodney fell to his knees and wept.

“Rodney?”

The infirmary came back into view along with the caring smile of one Carson Beckett. “Carson.”

“You okay? Your heart was beating a mite fast a few moments ago.”

“I feel as though I just got ran over and subsequently squashed by a Puddlejumper.” It was hard to think, as if someone had stuffed cotton balls in his head. He watched as a single machine dropped liquid from four different bags into his arm. He remembered feeling comfort from the sound before, but as unconsciousness continued to slip further away, it was starting to worry him.

Carson finished messing with the tubes, pulling up a chair and flashing that same abhorrent light in Rodney’s eyes that always made him groan. Weren’t infirmaries supposed to be comfortable places and not torture chambers? “Do you mind? How will I go back to my important work if you blind me? What am I doing here anyway?”

“What do you last remember?”

Burnt out candles, he wanted to say, but that had just been a dream. “I’m not sure.”

“Aye, well, I can’t say I’m surprised. Your head took quite the blow in the accident.”

“What accident? Don’t tell me we blew up the lab again, because we finally got it back to the way we wanted it from the last time.”

“No, Rodney. No one blew up your precious lab.”

There was a faint hum as Rodney felt himself, and his bed, lifted into a seated position. Taking in his surroundings, he saw that the privacy curtains had been closed around him and that Carson and he were the only ones left in the enclosure. “Where is everyone? Or am I suddenly not important enough to visit?” A cup was lifted to his dry lips, the water a welcome change from the dryness plaguing his mouth.

“By everyone, I assume you mean Colonel Sheppard and the rest of your team? They are on a rescue mission at the moment. They didn’t want to leave you, but you know how it goes around here.”

Rodney enjoyed some more of the water before nodding. Yes, he knew all too well how things went, and some days he wished nothing more than that he didn’t. “So if the lab didn’t explode, what did happen?”

“Do you remember going to P4X-7956?”

“I have a faint memory of caves, but other than that… I take it things didn’t go so well?”

“Aye. You can say that. You took a team of scientists to examine some Ancient technology. Unfortunately, the Wraith showed up and you were trapped along with four other scientists.”

“Oh yes, um…Zelenka, Miko, Hackett, and…um…that new girl. Lorraine…Lorar…Lorax?”

“Dr. Lorrah. Do you remember anything else?”

“Hackett was taken by the Wraith. We could hear his screams but there was nothing we…” Rodney stopped, squeezing his eyes closed. He remembered the faces of everyone that had died from his science team, as well as a few soldiers, but the ones that died right in front of him…well, they held a special place. He could see Hackett’s wide, hazel gaze as the Wraith took everything from him. And Lorrah…she had been trembling as they hid not too far away. Zelenka had been comforting her while Rodney was trying to find a way out. The screams were so loud. Even now, above the beeping machines, Rodney wasn’t sure if he was still hearing them.

“How’s your head, Rodney? Are you experiencing any pain?”

“No, I’m just wincing in comfort. What do you think?” Waves of nausea seemed to travel straight from his brain to his stomach and back up. He nodded slightly, his bandaged head falling back against the pillows. Beckett hadn’t answered the rhetorical question, leaving uncomfortable silence in the wake of Rodney’s complaints. Thus, it was time for the scientist to speak again, asking the one question he always hated, but he did have to ask. “Hackett didn’t make it back, did he?”

“No, I’m afraid not.”

“Sheppard and the others…they went to rescue the team of Marines that helped us escape?”

“That’s right. Go to sleep now, Rodney. We can talk more when you’re feeling better.”

Beckett pressed some buttons on the IV machine and the effect was instantaneous. McKay couldn’t keep his eyes open even if he wanted to.

He came into the room already knowing what he’d find. Darkness. The candles long since blown out by an unstoppable tide. He didn’t want to go back in there, afraid of facing the emptiness. An invisible force pushed him forward, though, and he was back again beside the forward line of chairs, facing the spent candles.

He brushed back a cobweb on one of the chairs, paying little mind to the spider that scurried away from the destroyed dwelling. He wondered how it had happened. How the candles had come to lose their life. He didn’t remember leaving. He didn’t remember losing them all. But clearly it must have happened or the flames would still be dancing.

He had no lighter and no match. None of the tools necessary to bring the fires once more to life. So the wicks were to stay black with charcoal and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. He was too late. He had failed in the only mission that truly mattered.

When he once more found his way to consciousness, he saw that the privacy curtain had been moved back, and the infirmary lights had been dimmed. A young woman, with the worst case of bed hair known to man, slept a few feet away from him. She was hooked up to a single IV line. Dr. Lorrah. At least she had made it back; Rodney had worried about that. He was used to his scientists panicking when it least suited them, especially the new ones. They had signed on to see a new galaxy and although they did get to see some technological wonders, they also saw war. War as Rodney had known it for the last three years.

“Welcome back, Dr. McKay.” Cindy was easily the best nurse on Carson’s team, if only for the fact that she let Rodney choose his jell-o without so much as one complaint. She stood over him, her blond ponytails brushed back behind her ears.

“Have they returned yet?”

Cindy gave a reassuring smile—which was most assuredly fake—while whispering, “No, but I’m sure they can take care of themselves. You just concentrate on getting better.”

He must have been sick for the nurses—even Cindy—to treat him with such patience. Usually they were on the defensive well before he opened his mouth. Today…well, today he didn’t feel much like talking. The cotton ball head syndrome sure wasn’t helping in that respect.

“Yes, well, I’m sure all the voodoo will put me back together from whatever happened.” He circled his hand in the air as he spoke.

“A cave-in.”

“Excuse me.”

“You were caught in a cave-in. You sheltered Doctors Lorrah and Zelenka, taking much of the blow on yourself.”

“Oh. Why would I do that?” He could see images, but it was still hard to put any of them together. Lorrah had been panicking, but they kept her fairly quiet while the Wraith searched. Then there were the Marines and the gunfire and…rocks…lots of rocks falling. “Where’s Zelenka? Is he okay?”

“Yes, he’s fine. Your body has been through a lot of strain; you should relax.” Cindy picked up a magazine from one of the chairs, taking a seat. She smiled softly, straightening the blankets on Rodney’s bed and then reaching over to pick up a wet cloth. “Would you like me to dab this on your forehead?”

The questions seemed so strange at first that Rodney had to pause and figure out what she was talking about. Then he registered the heat of the room and realized it wasn’t normal. The general moist feel to his body and the sticky touch of his clothes wasn’t good either. He must have a fever. No wonder his thoughts were coming at a tortoise pace.

Cindy waited for him to nod before she continued. The cold feel was a nice change, made all the better by the fact a pretty girl was leaning over him. Too bad girls like that never seemed to notice him.

“You have an infection running through your body, hence the fever. Dr. Beckett is confident that this run of antibiotics will help.” She moved the cloth back to its place on a nearby table. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

The brunette, Dr. Lorrah, had yet to move on the adjacent bed, a fact that kept nagging in Rodney’s brain. “She is going to be okay, right?”

“Yes. Thanks to you.”

“That’s good. I really saved her life?”

“Yes, you did. Now get some sleep.”

He was just about to complain about people always telling him that, when he felt himself carried away from consciousness once more.

He had a dream last night,

the same he had before.

The shadows lost in dark;

the aged black wicks were numb.

It was Sheppard’s voice that forced him back to consciousness the next time. “I’m fine, Doc. Really.”

“If one of your Marines told you they were fine while covered in blood and black soot, you would hear nothing of it, Colonel. In fact, you would, as you have in the past, send them to me. So stop being such a wee baby and be a good example for your men.”

Pushing his head up to see more, Rodney felt strong hands push him back. “Sheppard’s giving Beckett trouble again. Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

Once again he felt the wet cloth dabbed against his forehead, but it felt different—somehow wrong—when Ronon was the one on the other side. Not that McKay had the energy to argue. Beside him, Lorrah’s bed had been vacated and Cindy was preparing it for another patient.

“Good to see you awake again, Doctor. How are you feeling?” She smiled brightly. He didn’t even try to smile back. Everything hurt.

Turning back to Ronon, who was now skimming through an NRA magazine, Rodney had to ask, “How’d it go out there?”

“Rescued one. Sheppard took a fall and injured his knee. Rest of us are fine.”

“How many didn’t come back?”

“Three. Reynolds, Watterson, and Williams.”

“Wonderful. I don’t suppose we have anything to show for it?”

“One life and whatever you find in the artifact we brought back. How are you feeling?” Ronon had started speaking in larger sentences lately, which Rodney had yet to get used to. The voice was still brusque; it just came in bigger sizes as the runner adjusted to living in society. It made Rodney wonder just what kind of a person Ronon had been before the Wraith had taken him.

“Like crap? How does it look like I feel? How long have I been here, anyway? Feels like an eternity.”

“Three days. The mission went bad. We weren’t able to get back until now.”

“Yes, well, I hope you didn’t have too much fun without me.”

Rodney leaned back against the pillow, listening as Carson threatened to sedate Sheppard, while Sheppard feigned innocence. It was familiar background music, and Rodney strangely found it comforting.

Cindy approached, placing a fresh cup by his bed. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Dr. Lorrah has been waiting to speak with you.”

Ronon excused himself, saying something about escaping the infirmary before the doc chose to hold him hostage as well. Rodney watched him go only to be replaced by a brunette woman with a timid expression. She shuffled forward, glancing around her as though unsure whether she should continue or run away.

“You wanted something, Doctor?” he asked, his brusque voice keeping her from leaving, but not serving to make her life easier. It wasn’t his job to make things easy after all. Wishing the room was a hundred degrees cooler and that his arms didn’t feel like lead weights, he motioned for her to start speaking.

“Yes. Do you mind?” She motioned to the curtains. The metal rings clanged loudly against Rodney’s skull as the curtain came to a close. “I hear you are feeling better?”

“Yes, if you call a fever feeling better. Why do I think that’s not why you came, though? Well, let’s hear it already. I don’t have all day. Actually I do, but that doesn’t mean you have to waste it.”

Lorrah’s teeth met her bottom lip, pulling it back into a scared grimace. Her arms were covered in scratches that hadn’t been there the last time he had seen her. For the first time, he noticed that his were as well. Not too mention a few too many bandages.

“I wanted to thank you for what you did back there. You saved my life.”

“I did? Hm. I don’t really remember it, but I suppose I would do something heroic like that. Is that all?”

“Yes.” She turned around, her back trembling.

Her hand was on the curtain when his voice stopped her. “Oh please, we all know you have something you want to say. Out with it already!”

She swung around, coming forward at a quicker pace. “You’ve been here for three years now. Three years! How can you stand it?”

“What?” She was out of focus, and he was sure it was the fever. Maybe that’s why she was saying something so strange: He was imagining it.

“That man…Hackett…those Marines…they…they…”

“They were doing what had to be done.”

“They died. I’ve never…I mean…”

Sighing, he pushed himself up against the sheets despite his aching muscles. He glanced away from her and then back. “And what would you have me say? Look, I know it’s not easy to see something like that…to be here. But you’re here…they were here…because we’re among the few who can get the job done.”

“It just seems so…”

“Screwed up?”

“Yeah.” She fell into one of the chairs, and Rodney was horrified to see a light stream of water making its way down her cheek. It was easier to just look away.

“I’d tell you it gets easier, but it doesn’t. We’ll have a memorial service, light a few candles, say some goodbyes and do the same thing next week. I saved your life today; you might save someone else tomorrow. It’s just how life is here.”

“Then maybe I shouldn’t be here.” She fiddled with the NRA magazine, as though ready to tear it apart.

“He could feel sleep pulling him back, but he could also feel her terrified eyes on him. Pushing back his nausea and headache, he continued, “Pegasus isn’t right for everyone. It’s best you figure that out now, so we can send you to a nice quiet life at Area 51 if need be. Just remember, a lot of what happens here is what you make out of it, and smarts will only win you half the battle. If you’re half as intelligent as your file claims, you’d have figured that out by now.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Her tone turned dark as she looked at him as though staring far away. Emerging from her seat, she brushed away a few of the tears, then preceded toward the curtain. “I think I’ll be resigning, just so you know.” She rubbed the place on her arms covered in scratches, her movements slow.

Rodney watched all of this with a schooled expression. He couldn’t afford to lose many more scientists and she had been proving to be one of the better ones, but he meant what he said. Pegasus wasn’t right for everyone. Still, watching her go somehow felt wrong, and it wasn’t just the dizziness from his headache. “Hold on.” He should be sleeping and enjoying the care of blonde nurses, not working himself up to help one of his scientists, but he couldn’t help himself. Why? Well, maybe Kate understood it better than him. He used to be just as afraid, maybe he still is and is just better at hiding it.

“Yes?” She didn’t bother to turn around.

“Can you get Cindy here, and um, wait for a moment.”

She nodded, coming back with the cute blonde nurse that was forever and always going to be out of his league. Alas, geekdom wasn’t all fun and games. “You wanted something, Doctor?”

It took some convincing with Carson, but he had his hands full enough with Sheppard that it wasn’t as bad as it could have been, but some moments later, Rodney was in a wheelchair with Cindy pushing from behind and Lorrah walking by his side. He feigned wellness, ignoring his burning arms and turning stomach, knowing full well that if he mentioned it, Cindy would take him back.

“Where is it that you wanted to go again?”

“The chapel. We created it sometime in the first year, after the first few people died.”

He entered the room, but it was different than in his dreams. Rows of chairs faced tables filled with candles, yes, but every wick was lit. Cindy parked his wheelchair in the center of the first row, and none of the three dared to speak. Gaul, Peterson…a slew of names passed through his mind as he said a prayer to an unidentified deity, or maybe just to the silent mind, for each of them. He added one for Ford and his safe return.

Lorrah took a seat nearby, bowing her head. At last she turned to him, “Why did you bring me here?”

“Every week we come here. Every week we put a new candle down and light it. Tomorrow some new candles will join the fray. Over there, those are our missing in action ones, a sign that we are still waiting for them.”

“And this is to convince me to stay here?” She sounded incredulous; she looked guilty, as though ashamed of the words she dared utter in such a room.

Rodney started to wheel his chair away before Cindy took over with pushing—which was good because he probably wasn’t strong enough to hold a remote control, much less push himself back. They left the room in silence.

“I don’t understand,” Lorrah said. She gazed at him as though trying to discern a complicated puzzle. Three degrees and she was more clueless than Ronon on a bad day.

Playing with his IV (despite Cindy constantly pushing his hand away), he tried once more. “There is more than just sorrow in that room.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. Would I say something like that if I didn’t mean it? Now, I’ve been here a long time and haven’t you wondered why someone like me didn’t take the first trip out of here when I had the chance?”

She shrugged in response, clearly thinking he was mad.

“It’s because of what is in there—because of what that room represents.” He didn’t elaborate, even when she asked. Words were never his high point and what was there that he could say? “Never mind. Have fun at Area 51. You don’t have to be as quick on the uptake there.”

He allowed Cindy to wheel him back and settle him into the bed. If anything he felt worse, and damned if he couldn’t get through to that girl. She would leave and it would be a loss.

Cindy wiped his forehead, commenting on his fever still being a little too high for her liking. She offered him some water and even a smile. “I understand what you were trying to tell her,” she said, “and I think it’s nice you were willing to put her needs before your own.”

“Yes, well, didn’t make much of a difference did it?”

“You don’t seem to me like the type to give up so easily.”

“Oh.” He cleared his throat in hopes that it would stop the red from rushing to his cheeks. “I…I mean…”

Cindy laughed, dabbing the cloth once more than turning to leave. “Can I get you anything before I go off shift?”

“My laptop?”

To Rodney’s surprise, she actually agreed to bring him the computer without so much as asking Carson. Maybe it was something in his pleading eyes. He typed quickly, the thoughts coming from his mind as though they had been waiting to escape for some time now.

To: Dr. Lorrah

From: Dr. Rodney McKay, PhD

Re: The Chapel

Have you ever read To Kill A Mockingbird? Of course you have, or your school was extremely derelict in its curriculum, which judging by the fact you are here, must not be the case.

At any rate, I don’t remember the quote exactly, but it goes something like this: ‘I wanted you to see what real courage was instead of thinking courage is a man with a gun in his hand. Courage is when you know you’re licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and you see it through. You rarely win, but sometimes you do.’

There are those here that would tell you I’m a coward, while others know better. I can’t really tell you which side is right. We all have our moments; I guess. I think the difference between cowardice and courage lies within this quote just as it lies within that room. Every week we light the candles, and keep the others lit. If we didn’t, all the wicks would wither away and the room would darken. It’s my worst nightmare.

I’m not the best at sharing stuff like this, so bear with me, okay? I look in that room and I see more than just death; I see hope. Yes, I know, it’s probably just a product of my delusional mind, but hear me out. I don’t go back to Earth because if I did, I wouldn’t have the comfort of seeing those lit candles. Of knowing that the human race hasn’t given up. That we’re still willing to fight. That we have a purpose. You see, a candle lit means someone was there to light it.

As long as one person remains to keep the flame burning, then there is still hope.

You may not think yourself capable of staying here, but me, I think you have more courage than you believe, and that’s why you will stay. You’ll learn soon enough that I am rarely—if ever—wrong. Now quit lazing about and get back to work.

Sincerely,

Dr. McKay

He pressed the send button, listening to the comforting sound of the IV. Sheppard had taken the bed beside him, and was fast asleep. Deciding the colonel finally had a good idea, Rodney followed in his footsteps.

He had a dream last night,

the same he had before.

The shadows lost in dark;

the aged black wicks were numb.

He had this dream again,

so to find peace in morn,

he crawled into the place

where flames continued bright.