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SGA - Atlantis Riders (AU)
Title: Atlantis Riders
Genre: SGA, AU, Team Fic
Rating: PG-13 for mild language
Synopsis: An introduction into the lives of the Atlantis Riders.
Author’s Notes: This is based off a discussion on the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
team_sga list about AUs and the like. This particular universe is based off the old television series “Young Riders” with a few changes to allow for the team as we know it to exist.
Disclaimer: I don’t own them, people with a lot of money do. I’m just borrowing them to play and making no profit from the experience.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Whatcha doin’?” John asked, swinging a leg over the bench serving as seating at their rough-hewn all-purpose table. The table was currently housing the beginnings of a fair sized meal, some of which was being plated and wrapped up in cloth by deft hands.
“Trying to make sure Mister Emmagen will still have something to eat by the time you boys are done,” Elizabeth answered primly. She spooned some soup into a bowl and covered it, placing both parcels on a shelf above the fireplace.
“Tey’s not back yet?” Sheppard asked, voice full of concern. By his estimate, the ride should have taken no more than half a day at most and yet here is was, almost sundown, and no return. The Atlantis Riders were known for their timeliness, unless something went horribly wrong, so the delay had his hackles up.
“Ronon rode out to see if he could see anything, but it’s doubtful with those clouds rollin’ in and the sun about to set,” Miss Weir shrugged. A strand was falling loose from her bun, and she quickly tucked it back and out of her way.
John nodded, having more faith in his friend’s ability than most, but then again, he had seen him in action. “If there’s anything to be seen, Ronon’ll see it,” he said confidently. Privately, he was just hoping there was something to be seen at all.
Elizabeth shook her head and he knew she had to be using all of her lady-like sensibilities not to roll her eyes at him. “I don’t care if the boy was born from the land itself, facts are facts and fact says you can’t see through a rainstorm in the dark.”
“It’s not raining yet,” John pointed out.
“Close enough to it,” she countered, pointing out the window at the rapidly darkening sky.
McKay chose that moment to wander in and join the conversation. “She’s right, you know,” he said, sitting down next to Sheppard. “The Weather Meter that Radek and I came up with says it’s going to be here any minute.”
“Thank you, Rodney,” Elizabeth said, with the tone of the justified.
“Common sense says it’s going to be here minute,” John told him. “You look out the window and see it comin’. You’d know that if you took your head out of those books of yours some day. What I was sayin’ was that it hasn’t happened yet.” He tore off a piece of bread and started loading up his plate, only to have his hands slapped by the house mistress herself. “Hey!”
“You will wait for the others,” Miss Weir told him.
“If we wait for Tey, we ain’t ever going to eat,” he pointed out. “Isn’t that why you were savin’ some from the rest of us?”
“She’s holding out on us?” Rodney accused, narrowing his eyes at the offerings.
“Just enough to make sure the poor boy has something when he comes in,” Elizabeth promised him. “There’s plenty for you and yours, even with your appetites.”
Rodney looked at her doubtingly, but knew better than to question her.
John decided to change the subject. “How is Radek? Been a while since I’ve seen him.”
“He’s good,” McKay said, smoothing out his napkin over his lap. “He’s spending most of his time over at the South station where they’ve figured out some elaborate way to talk to him – seems to waste a lot of good paper and ink. Got some crazy idea about water wheels and wells he’s trying to get one of the smith’s to fall for.”
“Sounds like the one you had a while back,” John mused, knowing full well he was likely to set the would-be tinkerer off.
Rodney snorted. “Yeah, only his is metal instead of wood, so it’s going to cost more, weigh more, and be a pain in the ass to repair.”
“Language!” Weir reprimanded.
“Sorry,” he said in a tone that conveyed he was anything but. “He should have gone with my idea, but won’t for the shear fact I came up with it instead of him.”
“Didn’t yours not work?” John baited.
“It just needed some tweaking,” Rodney defended his invention. “Still easier and less costly than his metal contraption.”
The door opened and the man in charge stepped in, ending any line of conversation not directly having to do with the business at hand. “Ronon’ll be here in a moment. Says Tey’s on his way, but won’t get here before the rain. Damn fool wanted to go out to meet him. Talked him out of it, but he’s not happy,” Caldwell announced without preamble.
“Either would Tey if he actually did it,” Sheppard pointed out.
“Yeah, but it would be fun to watch them duke it out,” Rodney mused, earning a smile from the others, though Elizabeth tried to hide hers.
Caldwell sat down at the head of the table, gesturing for Elizabeth to have a seat as well. “Might as well say Grace and chow down,” he advised. He saw Miss Weir open her mouth to protest, and added, “It’s not like Ronon prays anyway, or believes in it if he does.”
“I do it because Miss Elizabeth asked me to,” came a rumbling voice from behind him as Ronon stepped into the room. The large man smirked at making their would-be leader jump in his chair, though all knew he would deny it to his dying day. “It’s respectful,” he added as he sat down across from John. The space beside him was empty, being the usual seating for their missing member.
“Not if you don’t believe in it,” Caldwell countered.
Ronon flipped a strand of his thickly corded hair behind his shoulder. “Your own book tells you not to keep vices like drinkin’ and smokin’, yet you do that near daily. There’s a difference between acting and believing. Do it from your heart, and that’s all that matters, right?”
Elizabeth beamed, knowing he was quoting one of their earlier conversations. She also knew this had the potential to get out of hand if she let it. “Now that we have all gathered for the meal,” she prompted, pleased to see four heads lower as one.
~~~~~~~~~~
It was well past dark by the time Tey got in. The meal was finished and Caldwell and Elizabeth had retired to their rooms for the night. The boys were in the bunkhouse, debating whether to play cards, or some new game McKay came up with. Sheppard was tempted to go with McKay’s idea, just because it was something new, but wanted the caveat that he got to make up his own rules if it got stupid.
“That took far longer than it had any right to,” the final member if their team announced, sloshing over the threshold, leaving puddles of water behind with every step.
“Boots outside so they get half a chance to dry,” Sheppard directed, tossing a towel in the general direction of the doorway. Emmagen caught it deftly and sloshed back outside to shake off the worse of it on the covered porch.
“Did you see to your horse?” Ronon called from across the room.
“Yes,” came the muffled response. “Gave her a quick rub down, but she will need extra in the morning. PJ was quite distraught with the thunder, so I gave her a bit of oats to see if that would tide her over.”
Tey wandered back into the room, coat, hat and boots stripped off and hair in disarray. She stopped short at the open-mouthed looks she got from her teammates, looking down to see her light linen shirt soaked through and clinging to her less than manly body. She held the towel up defensively, making a circular motion with her finger. “You know the rules,” she reminded them, smiling as all three turned to face the wall.
“Kind of a silly rule, really,” McKay mused, trying to focus on the grain of the wood and not the sound of his teammate stripping down behind him. “Seeing how we all know he’s a she and we’ve all near seen it at some time or ‘nother.” A wet towel collided with his head, followed by a smack from either side of him. “Hey, why don’t I go collect the dinner Elizabeth set aside?” he offered with forced cheerfulness, pulling off the wet cloth and handing it over to Sheppard.
“I’ll go check the horses,” John chimed in, tossing the towel over a chair to dry. “Puddle Jumper usually likes the rain, that’s how she got her name. Somethin’s up if she’s spooked.” A quick tug on Ronon’s sleeve got him moving as well.
“I’ll, uh, check on Stunner and Bantos,” he muttered, grabbing his coat and heading for the door, very carefully keeping his back to a certain area of the room.
“There is no need for everyone else to get soaked on my account,” Tey chided. “The horses will keep and I am almost done anyway.”
“It’s a short walk,” Sheppard stalled.
“An’ mostly covered anyway,” Ronon added.
“And it’ll give you a chance to actually dry off and not just pretend to,” Rodney pointed out before disappearing out the door.
Alone in the bunkhouse, Teyla shook her head. She loved her teammates, but they were a subtle as a two-by-four. Rodney had been right; they had seen each other in pretty much every situation at this point, some less than stately, to say the least. Most times, it did not matter, but every once in a while, the fact she was a woman living in a world of men came to the forefront and had to be addressed.
They kept the so-called rules to at least maintain the image of modesty. Should she ever be caught out by someone other than her team, they would not be lying, just not revealing the full truth. They never once did anything inappropriate in the bunkhouse or within hearing range of any of the other Riders. As it was, she was pretty sure Miss Elizabeth and Mister Caldwell had their suspicions, but neither would speak up about it, yet. If she ever did come out to the town as a whole, she might even have to go to confession for that.
She smiled at the thought, much preferring Ronon’s less structured view of spirituality than the sitting in the stuffy church for hours on end. The reverend was a kind man, and would likely understand her choice in time, but she was not sure if he would ever accept it the way her team or Ronon’s people had. They had run into an old friend of his some months ago, and he had instantly spotted her deception. Instead of questioning or belittling her, he had offered her a symbolic double-edged blade in friendship and offered to have his sister show her how to bind down the most obvious signs of her femininity.
That same binding that was currently soaked through and stuck to her skin in uncomfortable ways. Finally freeing herself, she quickly dried herself off and pulled on a warm undershirt someone had thoughtfully left near the fire for her. She was pulling on her nightclothes and trying to pat some of the moisture out of her hair as she heard her wayward team approaching, a tentative knock on the door signaling their return.
She sat and enjoyed the lukewarm food, and the mug of ale she knew Miss Elizabeth would not approve of, as she watched the others try to play some sort of game Rodney had developed. She was about halfway done when Sheppard looked to either be bored, or losing, and asked, “So what was with the delay? The bad weather didn’t hit ‘til late, you should have been back here before then.” She was secretly pleased; he had waited far longer than she thought he would have before he had broken down and asked outright.
She swallowed a piece of biscuit, and washed it down with another sip of ale. “Raiders,” she said, not able to hide the venom in her tone. “They hit the town before I got there, and nearly hit me on the way back.”
“Are you okay?” Sheppard asked, instantly concerned. She did not appear to be injured, but they all knew how well to conceal the obvious by now.
“Yes,” she assured him, knowing she was assuring them all. “I had to hide until they passed and it was safe to travel again. They are like a wraith upon this land: greedy and dangerous. They are feeding off the suffering of others. As it is, that poor town better hope for an excellent harvest, or they will not survive the winter. There was talk of fleeing, of finding a place further west, but who knows how safe that will be?”
“They will probably follow wherever they go,” Ronon agreed. All knew his own people had been the victims of similar raids, only most of them had not survived.
“It can’t be completely hopeless,” Sheppard offered. “There’s got to be some way to fight back.”
McKay rolled his eyes, saying, “Oh gee, I wonder why no one else ever thought of that.” At the scowl he received for his efforts, he added, “People have been fighting back for ages, but there’s not enough law or enough gun powder to use against them. Until we’ve got one or the other, preferably both, there’s not much we can do to stop ‘em.”
“We can fight what we find,” Ronon tried.
“We’re mail carriers, not vigilantes,” Rodney countered. He came from a scholarly family and was working as a Rider to try to pay for some expensive school he had his mind set on. As such, he was willing to do what was necessary, but rarely wanted to risk much else if given the option.
“I agree with both,” Teyla put forward, hoping to get the two men to reach a compromise. It was not always easy with their vastly different backgrounds, but it occasionally worked. “I say we try to help where we can, but must know our own limitations. If we continue to report what we find, hopefully they will assign more U.S. Marshals to the area to assist in wiping them out.”
“In your dreams,” Rodney scoffed. “Even in the big cities there’s not enough cops to stop the robbers. You think they care about us out here in the middle of nowhere?”
“I care,” John pointed out.
“And that’s very noble, but not very helpful,” Rodney smiled, patting his hand in a placating manner.
John moved his hand away, scowling. “We just need a plan.”
“More Marshals and more guns is a damn good plan,” Rodney shrugged.
“Seein’ how we don’t have that...”
“We don’t have a lot of things.”
“Well, why don’t we list what we have versus what we need?”
Ronon watched them bickering and turned to Teyla with a knowing smirk. “We’ve got ale,” he offered.
She looked down into her empty cup. “And I apparently need more,” she grinned.
“Finally! Something we can all agree on!” Rodney crowed, pushing himself up and away from the table, and to his hidden stash.
Teyla leaned back in her chair, her bare feet stretched out to warm by the fire, watching as cups were passed out and her own was refilled. She knew the rain would likely last through the ‘morrow, leaving them bored and feisty if they could not find something better to do. Nursing hangovers and mucking out the stalls would keep them all quiet and busy, if nothing else. Besides, there was sure to be another ride coming up soon. There always was.
End. [For now?]
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.
Genre: SGA, AU, Team Fic
Rating: PG-13 for mild language
Synopsis: An introduction into the lives of the Atlantis Riders.
Author’s Notes: This is based off a discussion on the
team_sga list about AUs and the like. This particular universe is based off the old television series “Young Riders” with a few changes to allow for the team as we know it to exist.Disclaimer: I don’t own them, people with a lot of money do. I’m just borrowing them to play and making no profit from the experience.
~~~~~~~~~~
“Whatcha doin’?” John asked, swinging a leg over the bench serving as seating at their rough-hewn all-purpose table. The table was currently housing the beginnings of a fair sized meal, some of which was being plated and wrapped up in cloth by deft hands.
“Trying to make sure Mister Emmagen will still have something to eat by the time you boys are done,” Elizabeth answered primly. She spooned some soup into a bowl and covered it, placing both parcels on a shelf above the fireplace.
“Tey’s not back yet?” Sheppard asked, voice full of concern. By his estimate, the ride should have taken no more than half a day at most and yet here is was, almost sundown, and no return. The Atlantis Riders were known for their timeliness, unless something went horribly wrong, so the delay had his hackles up.
“Ronon rode out to see if he could see anything, but it’s doubtful with those clouds rollin’ in and the sun about to set,” Miss Weir shrugged. A strand was falling loose from her bun, and she quickly tucked it back and out of her way.
John nodded, having more faith in his friend’s ability than most, but then again, he had seen him in action. “If there’s anything to be seen, Ronon’ll see it,” he said confidently. Privately, he was just hoping there was something to be seen at all.
Elizabeth shook her head and he knew she had to be using all of her lady-like sensibilities not to roll her eyes at him. “I don’t care if the boy was born from the land itself, facts are facts and fact says you can’t see through a rainstorm in the dark.”
“It’s not raining yet,” John pointed out.
“Close enough to it,” she countered, pointing out the window at the rapidly darkening sky.
McKay chose that moment to wander in and join the conversation. “She’s right, you know,” he said, sitting down next to Sheppard. “The Weather Meter that Radek and I came up with says it’s going to be here any minute.”
“Thank you, Rodney,” Elizabeth said, with the tone of the justified.
“Common sense says it’s going to be here minute,” John told him. “You look out the window and see it comin’. You’d know that if you took your head out of those books of yours some day. What I was sayin’ was that it hasn’t happened yet.” He tore off a piece of bread and started loading up his plate, only to have his hands slapped by the house mistress herself. “Hey!”
“You will wait for the others,” Miss Weir told him.
“If we wait for Tey, we ain’t ever going to eat,” he pointed out. “Isn’t that why you were savin’ some from the rest of us?”
“She’s holding out on us?” Rodney accused, narrowing his eyes at the offerings.
“Just enough to make sure the poor boy has something when he comes in,” Elizabeth promised him. “There’s plenty for you and yours, even with your appetites.”
Rodney looked at her doubtingly, but knew better than to question her.
John decided to change the subject. “How is Radek? Been a while since I’ve seen him.”
“He’s good,” McKay said, smoothing out his napkin over his lap. “He’s spending most of his time over at the South station where they’ve figured out some elaborate way to talk to him – seems to waste a lot of good paper and ink. Got some crazy idea about water wheels and wells he’s trying to get one of the smith’s to fall for.”
“Sounds like the one you had a while back,” John mused, knowing full well he was likely to set the would-be tinkerer off.
Rodney snorted. “Yeah, only his is metal instead of wood, so it’s going to cost more, weigh more, and be a pain in the ass to repair.”
“Language!” Weir reprimanded.
“Sorry,” he said in a tone that conveyed he was anything but. “He should have gone with my idea, but won’t for the shear fact I came up with it instead of him.”
“Didn’t yours not work?” John baited.
“It just needed some tweaking,” Rodney defended his invention. “Still easier and less costly than his metal contraption.”
The door opened and the man in charge stepped in, ending any line of conversation not directly having to do with the business at hand. “Ronon’ll be here in a moment. Says Tey’s on his way, but won’t get here before the rain. Damn fool wanted to go out to meet him. Talked him out of it, but he’s not happy,” Caldwell announced without preamble.
“Either would Tey if he actually did it,” Sheppard pointed out.
“Yeah, but it would be fun to watch them duke it out,” Rodney mused, earning a smile from the others, though Elizabeth tried to hide hers.
Caldwell sat down at the head of the table, gesturing for Elizabeth to have a seat as well. “Might as well say Grace and chow down,” he advised. He saw Miss Weir open her mouth to protest, and added, “It’s not like Ronon prays anyway, or believes in it if he does.”
“I do it because Miss Elizabeth asked me to,” came a rumbling voice from behind him as Ronon stepped into the room. The large man smirked at making their would-be leader jump in his chair, though all knew he would deny it to his dying day. “It’s respectful,” he added as he sat down across from John. The space beside him was empty, being the usual seating for their missing member.
“Not if you don’t believe in it,” Caldwell countered.
Ronon flipped a strand of his thickly corded hair behind his shoulder. “Your own book tells you not to keep vices like drinkin’ and smokin’, yet you do that near daily. There’s a difference between acting and believing. Do it from your heart, and that’s all that matters, right?”
Elizabeth beamed, knowing he was quoting one of their earlier conversations. She also knew this had the potential to get out of hand if she let it. “Now that we have all gathered for the meal,” she prompted, pleased to see four heads lower as one.
~~~~~~~~~~
It was well past dark by the time Tey got in. The meal was finished and Caldwell and Elizabeth had retired to their rooms for the night. The boys were in the bunkhouse, debating whether to play cards, or some new game McKay came up with. Sheppard was tempted to go with McKay’s idea, just because it was something new, but wanted the caveat that he got to make up his own rules if it got stupid.
“That took far longer than it had any right to,” the final member if their team announced, sloshing over the threshold, leaving puddles of water behind with every step.
“Boots outside so they get half a chance to dry,” Sheppard directed, tossing a towel in the general direction of the doorway. Emmagen caught it deftly and sloshed back outside to shake off the worse of it on the covered porch.
“Did you see to your horse?” Ronon called from across the room.
“Yes,” came the muffled response. “Gave her a quick rub down, but she will need extra in the morning. PJ was quite distraught with the thunder, so I gave her a bit of oats to see if that would tide her over.”
Tey wandered back into the room, coat, hat and boots stripped off and hair in disarray. She stopped short at the open-mouthed looks she got from her teammates, looking down to see her light linen shirt soaked through and clinging to her less than manly body. She held the towel up defensively, making a circular motion with her finger. “You know the rules,” she reminded them, smiling as all three turned to face the wall.
“Kind of a silly rule, really,” McKay mused, trying to focus on the grain of the wood and not the sound of his teammate stripping down behind him. “Seeing how we all know he’s a she and we’ve all near seen it at some time or ‘nother.” A wet towel collided with his head, followed by a smack from either side of him. “Hey, why don’t I go collect the dinner Elizabeth set aside?” he offered with forced cheerfulness, pulling off the wet cloth and handing it over to Sheppard.
“I’ll go check the horses,” John chimed in, tossing the towel over a chair to dry. “Puddle Jumper usually likes the rain, that’s how she got her name. Somethin’s up if she’s spooked.” A quick tug on Ronon’s sleeve got him moving as well.
“I’ll, uh, check on Stunner and Bantos,” he muttered, grabbing his coat and heading for the door, very carefully keeping his back to a certain area of the room.
“There is no need for everyone else to get soaked on my account,” Tey chided. “The horses will keep and I am almost done anyway.”
“It’s a short walk,” Sheppard stalled.
“An’ mostly covered anyway,” Ronon added.
“And it’ll give you a chance to actually dry off and not just pretend to,” Rodney pointed out before disappearing out the door.
Alone in the bunkhouse, Teyla shook her head. She loved her teammates, but they were a subtle as a two-by-four. Rodney had been right; they had seen each other in pretty much every situation at this point, some less than stately, to say the least. Most times, it did not matter, but every once in a while, the fact she was a woman living in a world of men came to the forefront and had to be addressed.
They kept the so-called rules to at least maintain the image of modesty. Should she ever be caught out by someone other than her team, they would not be lying, just not revealing the full truth. They never once did anything inappropriate in the bunkhouse or within hearing range of any of the other Riders. As it was, she was pretty sure Miss Elizabeth and Mister Caldwell had their suspicions, but neither would speak up about it, yet. If she ever did come out to the town as a whole, she might even have to go to confession for that.
She smiled at the thought, much preferring Ronon’s less structured view of spirituality than the sitting in the stuffy church for hours on end. The reverend was a kind man, and would likely understand her choice in time, but she was not sure if he would ever accept it the way her team or Ronon’s people had. They had run into an old friend of his some months ago, and he had instantly spotted her deception. Instead of questioning or belittling her, he had offered her a symbolic double-edged blade in friendship and offered to have his sister show her how to bind down the most obvious signs of her femininity.
That same binding that was currently soaked through and stuck to her skin in uncomfortable ways. Finally freeing herself, she quickly dried herself off and pulled on a warm undershirt someone had thoughtfully left near the fire for her. She was pulling on her nightclothes and trying to pat some of the moisture out of her hair as she heard her wayward team approaching, a tentative knock on the door signaling their return.
She sat and enjoyed the lukewarm food, and the mug of ale she knew Miss Elizabeth would not approve of, as she watched the others try to play some sort of game Rodney had developed. She was about halfway done when Sheppard looked to either be bored, or losing, and asked, “So what was with the delay? The bad weather didn’t hit ‘til late, you should have been back here before then.” She was secretly pleased; he had waited far longer than she thought he would have before he had broken down and asked outright.
She swallowed a piece of biscuit, and washed it down with another sip of ale. “Raiders,” she said, not able to hide the venom in her tone. “They hit the town before I got there, and nearly hit me on the way back.”
“Are you okay?” Sheppard asked, instantly concerned. She did not appear to be injured, but they all knew how well to conceal the obvious by now.
“Yes,” she assured him, knowing she was assuring them all. “I had to hide until they passed and it was safe to travel again. They are like a wraith upon this land: greedy and dangerous. They are feeding off the suffering of others. As it is, that poor town better hope for an excellent harvest, or they will not survive the winter. There was talk of fleeing, of finding a place further west, but who knows how safe that will be?”
“They will probably follow wherever they go,” Ronon agreed. All knew his own people had been the victims of similar raids, only most of them had not survived.
“It can’t be completely hopeless,” Sheppard offered. “There’s got to be some way to fight back.”
McKay rolled his eyes, saying, “Oh gee, I wonder why no one else ever thought of that.” At the scowl he received for his efforts, he added, “People have been fighting back for ages, but there’s not enough law or enough gun powder to use against them. Until we’ve got one or the other, preferably both, there’s not much we can do to stop ‘em.”
“We can fight what we find,” Ronon tried.
“We’re mail carriers, not vigilantes,” Rodney countered. He came from a scholarly family and was working as a Rider to try to pay for some expensive school he had his mind set on. As such, he was willing to do what was necessary, but rarely wanted to risk much else if given the option.
“I agree with both,” Teyla put forward, hoping to get the two men to reach a compromise. It was not always easy with their vastly different backgrounds, but it occasionally worked. “I say we try to help where we can, but must know our own limitations. If we continue to report what we find, hopefully they will assign more U.S. Marshals to the area to assist in wiping them out.”
“In your dreams,” Rodney scoffed. “Even in the big cities there’s not enough cops to stop the robbers. You think they care about us out here in the middle of nowhere?”
“I care,” John pointed out.
“And that’s very noble, but not very helpful,” Rodney smiled, patting his hand in a placating manner.
John moved his hand away, scowling. “We just need a plan.”
“More Marshals and more guns is a damn good plan,” Rodney shrugged.
“Seein’ how we don’t have that...”
“We don’t have a lot of things.”
“Well, why don’t we list what we have versus what we need?”
Ronon watched them bickering and turned to Teyla with a knowing smirk. “We’ve got ale,” he offered.
She looked down into her empty cup. “And I apparently need more,” she grinned.
“Finally! Something we can all agree on!” Rodney crowed, pushing himself up and away from the table, and to his hidden stash.
Teyla leaned back in her chair, her bare feet stretched out to warm by the fire, watching as cups were passed out and her own was refilled. She knew the rain would likely last through the ‘morrow, leaving them bored and feisty if they could not find something better to do. Nursing hangovers and mucking out the stalls would keep them all quiet and busy, if nothing else. Besides, there was sure to be another ride coming up soon. There always was.
End. [For now?]
~~~~~~~~~~
Feedback is always welcomed.
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I love Elizabeth treating them like children, the boys blushing around a wet Teyla, her trying to find a common ground between all of them, oh, all of it! This is exactly what I envisioned when you first brought up the idea.
But that's not really the end, is it? *puppy eyes*
Oh, and
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I may possibly have ideas for more (if for no reason other than to use the title from a Metallica song of, "Shoot Me Again (I'm Not Dead Yet)". OT4 is a possibility, but I suck at explicit scenes, and not in a good way.
Thanks again! (And for the ideas for more!)
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I'd certainly read more.
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