Fic: How The McGrinch Stole Christmas 1/1 StarGate: Atlantis
Title: How The McGrinch Stole Christmas Author: Lopaka Tanu Disclaimer: I do not own StarGate SG-A. Characters: Rodney, Ronon Words: 1111 Prompt: Silver Star Fandom: StarGate Atlantis Pairing: None Rating: General Warnings: Language, Violence Summary: Rodney has his own way of getting in to the spirit of things. Author's Note: Do not ask. ______________________________________
It was night on Atlantis, and not a creature was stirring, not even Kavanagh. Most of the multi-national team were asleep, snug in their nice warm beds. Thoughts of fruit loops and wraiths danced in their heads. The connection between those two was far from clear, but they were dreams, they don't have to make sense.
Down, down far in to the gate room, stood a proud tree of the pine family. Its alien origin was known to many, its actual heritage but a few. Bright lights twinkled where fake snow was sprinkled. Garlands and holly, golden balls and silver stars seemed quite jolly. Not a sad thought to be had, this poor plant wasn't bad.
Then, hark!
A light in the control room. Glittering eyes reflecting, a madness growing. Around the last pillar, through the short corridor. Down the steps on less than quiet feet, down McKay, he did sneak. With a final glance about him, a care for the noise, he reached his goal.
A huffing chuckle was all to be heard, as off with the tree, went the demented nerd.
Awakened from his slumber, a lummox did grow. Sawing his lumber, he didn't know...what was afoot. His hair restrained, but not silent, Ronon grabbed his gun. At first, he was confused. What had awakened him, what had been the cause?
For it was true, there was something here quite queer. Then he knew, the lack of brilliance was quite clear. Growling, he stood up from his post. He was ready to kill something, even a ghost.
Knowing the jig was up, McKay did run. Through corridors, through chambers, he did make a merry chase. It wasn't fast, not even a race. There was always the chance he would be caught. He was glad of one thing. "At least it's not Kavanagh."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The sound of Ronon's blaster powering up filled the small room. "Drop the tree, McKay."
Freezing in place, Rodney narrowed his eyes. The large conifer in his possession twitched as he slowly lowered it to the floor. In his mind, he ran over the half a dozen explanations he had concocted earlier on why he was absconding with such a load. None of them seemed quite ready to fit, so he needed another plan.
The crafty look upon the scientist's face made Ronon's hair twitch. He was far from nervous, but his dreads lived up to their name. "What are you doing?"
"I should think it would be obvious." Mind games usually worked on those of the lesser intelligence. Unfortunately for McKay, Ronon was also known for shooting things he didn't care to understand.
To prove this, Ronon dialed up the power output on his blaster. "I will ask you again, why are you taking the tree?"
"Why indeed?" Rodney, who was normally prone to panic, felt a grin slide across his face. He knew something, oh yes, he had come up with a great plan. Spinning, he held up his hands. "I'm taking the tree back to my workshop."
His hair twitched again. Ronon knew the man was lying. "Oh, really?"
"Yes." The grin grew too hard to contain so he was forced to look away to hide how much this amused him. Laughter of the evil variety threatened to bubble up passed his lips causing him to whimper from the effort of holding it in. "You see...."
"Yes?" By now, his dread locks were in full fluffy kitty mode. Hair threatening to hiss, Ronon took a step forward.
"A light. Yes!" Snapping his fingers, Rodney grabbed the tree by the center shaft. He set it next to him with a jolt hard enough to cause the ornaments and boughs to shake. "One is blown. I need to repair it."
"No, it's not." Non plussed, Ronon took another step forward. His hair started to emit a low growl.
"It is so." Looking at the tree, Rodney pointed at a light on the far side away from Ronon. "There it is."
In a display of contempt, Ronon shook his head. "Show me." His hair hissed its agreement.
"All right." Reaching out quickly with his other hand, Rodney snapped the center light off an ornament. The moment it broke, the entire tree went dark. "There!" Spinning it, he displayed the broken light with triumph. "See."
"You just broke it!" He took another menacing step forward.
"But the light is broken. Therefore, I was telling the truth the whole time. Which means I have to take the tree, with me, to my lab, where I will fix the light. Now, if you will excuse me." Smug, Rodney turned away.
"You're not going anywhere." By now, his dread locks were straining against the bands holding them in place.
"Ronon!" John's voice echoed from the corridor just outside the room.
Distracted by the shout of his name, Ronon looked back long enough for his aim to waver.
"Oh, look, sounds like you're needed. Toodles!" Wrapping his arm around the tree, Rodney was off like a shot.
By the time Ronon looked again, all that remained was the acidic scent of pine resin and the sad remains of a sacrificed light bulb. Growling, his fingers twitched on the trigger. He faced Sheppard as the man entered the room. "What?"
Stopping, John stood with hands on his hips. A hint of accusation lit his features. "Where's the Christmas tree?"
"McKay took it." Shoving his blaster down in to the holster, Ronon started to walk passed Sheppard.
John frowned. That didn't make any sense. "Why would McKay steal the Christmas tree?"
"There's a broken light." Without further explanation, Ronon stomped his way out of the room. He was too late for the tree, but if he hurried, he might be able to save some of the other decorations.
Left to ponder the curious situation on his own, John stared about in confusion. A moment later, the lights on Atlantis dimmed as maniacal laughter echoed through out the city.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And so, dear gentle reader, know that the poor tree did die. Not a pleasant death, did it have, aye. For only a few knew the truth, but one especially. Down sank the tree, its branches weighted quite heavily.
Now an Epi-pen in one hand, hypo allergenic soap in the other, a nasal strip on his nose, a soft reminder from his mother. No citrus would touch his skin, no acid of lime, orange, or in this case, the alien grapefruit tree from this time. His life was safe, the threat being eliminated.
However, down his spine did go a chill of fear. No matter his mad science, there would always be citrus next year.