Cat (cat_77) wrote,

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SGA - Saving the Day

My partner and I may, possibly, have been watching a lot of NCIS lately... It may or may not have influenced this fic.

Title: Saving the Day
Category: SGA, Crossover, Mostly Gen with a bit of Beckett/Cadman
Rating: PG-13 for mild language
Season/Spoilers: Set around early Season 3, pre-Sunday.
Synopsis: She really kind of hated Earthside missions.
Warning: Tiny bit of crossover with NCIS. You don’t really need to know the characters to get the story.
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 this.


"What's her name?" the gray haired man demanded.

"Lieutenant Laura Cadman," his younger partner replied.

She hated the way they were talking about her as if she wasn't even in the room. All their questions... She could have answered them and saved them time. Well, you know, she could have if her throat wasn't nearly crushed and the side of her head nearly caved in. Another wave of pain, another roll of nausea drove that particular point home for her. Where was that morphine button? Total unconsciousness made things so much easier.

"... nearly died in the explosion. Still not sure why she ran towards it instead of away from it," the younger, and kind of cute one was saying.

The older one glanced at a file. "She's an explosives expert, or was at one point. Probably thought she could help out," he suggested dryly.

Well, duh, she thought, drifting back to that moment. The fact she as still alive and somewhat breathing was a sign she at least partially succeeded. She vaguely remembered the initial explosion, rushing to disable the naquada generator before it multiplied the deadly force exponentially. She remembered the singe of heat as it reached her fingers, the cloth of her uniform as it burned against her skin. Whoever the fuck stole the generator in the first place was so going to pay if she had to cut her hair.

"Was she alone?" the older man was asking.

Yeah, because we bomb-types always go solo. She rolled her eyes.

The movement must have caught the attention of the younger one, who smiled in her direction. Definitely a cutie. "She was assigned to a team, but must have gotten separated, we're still trying to find out how. They have been contacted and should be here shortly."

Not out for as long as she thought then. Also, not her team. Her team was a galaxy away from this place – she kinda wanted to go back.

There were footsteps, hushed, softened shoes like a nurse from the infirmary. Sure enough, one stuck her head in and announced that four Marines were in the waiting area, looking for an update.

"Go question them," the older man ordered. Damn, he sounded like an old-time drill sergeant. The cutie nodded and started towards the door, stopped by something out of her sight.

She listened. More footsteps, these sounding like the familiar boots on linoleum, rushing her way. She tried to focus, fight past the pain and the lingering haze of the drugs.

"Cadman," a man was saying in an oh-so-loved acerbic tone. "Come on, it's not like you have that many Marine bomb experts dragged in here..." the voice continued.

"Sirs, in there," Raferty directed from the hallway. He was a good kid. She would have brought him back if she was allowed.

The footsteps came closer, the already partially opened door damn near slammed against the wall as a trio of men appeared. One was tall, lanky, and disheveled - her commanding officer. One was shorter, furious and hyper - her reluctant friend. One was horrified, carrying a bag of goodies, and adorable - her boyfriend.

"Bloody hell, what happened to you?" Carson demanded, pushing his way through without further ado.

"I stopped it," she whispered, disappointed at the lack of strength in her voice. Thinking about it, maybe she just should have been glad she got anything out at all.

Rodney shook his head. "With what? Your face?" His touch to her arm was tender despite the harshness of his words. "Come on, Cadman, you know better than that."

"Ah, we're trying to conduct an investigation here," the older man from before protested.

Rodney waved him off and Carson continued his examination. "No, you're not," Sheppard said blandly, seeming to give her his own once over.

"Um, yes, we are?" the cute one tried, ducking behind the furious form of what must have been his own team leader.

"Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard," her commander introduced himself. "And you are?"

"Agents Gibbs and DiNozzo, NCIS," the older one replied, looking to have a store of patience rivaling McKay's.

Sheppard handed over some papers, barely gesturing at them before returning his attention to her. She tried to sit up straighter, look less beat down, or even smile. It didn't work. So not helping her image. He didn't seem to care. "Everything should be in order there. If you have any questions, there's a contact number on the bottom," he said dismissively over his shoulder.

"We're not done here," Gibbs tried.

"Yes, you are," Rodney shot back, rolling his eyes. Laura smiled. He started mumbling something about "stupid American military" which she could have taken offense to but, really, she just felt warmed by the familiarity of it.

The agent narrowed his eyes before glancing back down at the paper. "Mind telling me what an Air Force Colonel, a Canadian scientist, and a Scottish doctor have to do with one of my Marines?"

"She's not yours," Sheppard calmly replied. He looked down at her again and winked. "She's ours."

She felt as warmed by his words as she did by Rodney's added, "And, really, that counts as a question, so go call that contact number and leave us alone."

"Uh, boss?" DiNozzo tried.

The older man sighed. "The paperwork's valid," he confirmed. Glaring back at her trio of heroes, he added, "I'm going to get my answers."

"Whatever," Rodney rolled his eyes. "Just go so we can finish this up."

"Bye!" Sheppard said cheerily as Carson added a distracted, "Nice meeting you."

She watched as the doctor reached for something in the bag at his side, only a shake of Sheppard's head stopping him. Laura smiled. She was getting the good stuff.


Four hours later, Carson was done doing his thing and convincing the Navy hospital to let her go while Sheppard and McKay played guard at her door. She pulled on a new set of BDU's behind the curtain, marveling at the feel of regenerated skin as it pulled and pressed against itself. Definitely not pain, but definitely a different feeling.

"Are we going home, sir?" she asked, drawing the curtain back.

"Cheyenne," he replied, turning to face her. "The docs there are going to want to check you out, but Beckett thinks it should be quick," he promised. She nodded, having expected no less.

"You look so much better," Rodney blurted. His compassion was shortly followed by, "That was an incredibly stupid stunt you pulled. You're lucky you didn't get your head blown off."

"Even I don't have the means to fix that," Carson whispered, placing a chaste kiss to her temple.

"The core had already blown. I managed to disconnect the generator in time, but got caught in the secondary explosion when it hit the conventional power source," she defended herself.

Sheppard nodded, and she knew he had probably expected as much. "There will be a formal debrief later," he told her. Smiling now, he added, "Just glad to see you made it out, Lieutenant."

"Me too, sir," she grinned.

She gathered up the little gear she had and walked towards the door, not surprised when McKay grabbed it from her and Carson led her gently by the elbow. She was still a little woozy, and knew better than to think she would get out of an overnight stay at the mountain's infirmary, but for now she was just happy she was one step closer to going home.

A nurse brought a wheelchair, citing hospital policy, and she dutifully sat, the set of three matching pointed looks aiding in her decision. As she was rolled out, she chatted lightly with her still waiting temporary team, reassuring them that she was fine and her injuries had been exaggerated. Not quite the truth, but all she could tell them at this point.

As they finally made it to the elevator, something caught her eye. Off to the side, far enough away to seem incongruous, the two agents stood damn near open mouthed.

"I thought..." the younger one started.

The older one was closing a cell phone and stuffing it into his jacket. "Classified," was all he said.

The cute one looked at him doubtfully. "Classified," he repeated, raising an eyebrow and shaking his head.

She smirked and returned her attention to the men at her side, pausing only to wave as the elevator doors closed.



Feedback is always welcomed.

Tags: atlantis, stories, stories: atlantis, stories: crossover, stories: ncis

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