Writer

House/SGA: New Jersey Voodoo

Title: New Jersey Voodoo
Prompt: 15.Blue
Claim: John Sheppard, Stargate Atlantis
Fandoms: Stargate Atlantis, House
Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to someone else.
Summary: In which John goes to New Jersey, goes to the hospital, and goes crazy.
Notes: Blame mardahin. This is pretty much the illegitimate offspring of her fic, Scenes From a Waiting Room.

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Writer

SGA: Entering the Whirlpool

Title: Entering the Whirlpool
Author: rokeon
Summary: Rodney, the first time around.
Notes: trinityofone started quoting The Waste Land. I hold no responsibilty for any actions taken while under the influence of Eliot.


The expedition planners had spent weeks brainstorming possible scenarios, anticipated everything from wormhole failure to real live Ancients holding up "Welcome to Atlantis" signs like airport greeters. They didn't have a strategy prepared to respond with just in case the city that became legend for sinking into the ocean turned out to be underwater.

There's no one here to save him at the last moment, and he knows it. He's not going home. It doesn't keep him from listing, in the corner of his mind that's not working on retracting the roof in the gateship bay, the many and varied names he'd like to call certain people back on Earth.

The water is cold.

Idiots.
Writer

SGA/Lost: Friendly Skies

Title: Friendly Skies
Prompt: 80.Island
Claim: John Sheppard, Stargate Atlantis
Fandoms: Stargate Atlantis, Lost
Words: 158
Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to someone else.
Notes: The blue-ice runway at McMurdo is also called the Pegasus runway. This fact has nothing to do with the actual story.


The new orders came through sooner than he expected; John figured Dr. Weir and the general wanted more time to work on him. He was on a C-5 to Christchurch the next morning.

There were military flights available, but something about flying seven thousand miles in a sidewall seat just didn't appeal. Not when the next trip he took was probably going to be to a quick death on another planet. His paychecks had been doing nothing but collecting interest for months- buying a commercial ticket was hardly an extravagance.

The direct flights from New Zealand were all full, though, and the best his bank account could buy him was a ninety-minute layover in Sydney. At least it gave him time to get a turkey sandwich.

Just enough time, as it turned out. He'd barely finished eating when they called the first round of boarding for Oceanic Flight 815.

Time to start the adventure they'd been promising him.