[Stargate: Atlantis] Cry Havoc

Title: Cry Havoc
Pairing: None
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Rising
Summary: Atlantis was never meant to be about power.
Prompt: Cliché: Vampire AU
Notes: Written for svmadelyn's Cuff 'Em, Vamp 'Em, or Just Make 'Em Come Already Kink and Cliché Multi-Fandom Challenge.





Elizabeth gains command of the expedition not by virtue of her negotiation skills or even her gift for diplomacy, but rather through her contacts, hard-earned over the years. Her victory, when it comes, is tainted with bitterness and feels hollow, but it's hers nonetheless and she chooses not to waste it. Not when she has the chance to do something great with it.

She knows the rumors that circulate like free-floating spirits wherever the Atlantis expedition is mentioned. She knows the speculation about her inhuman abilities, the legends of Vlad the Impaler and the legacy he's left for her people. She knows what they call her behind her back, what her enemies would like to insinuate, and she finds ways to laugh at all of it because so much of it truth and so much of it are lies and no one really knows which is which, even her.

It takes time and patience to find the best and brightest, those Earth has overlooked due to age-old prejudice and fear. She finds those who want to go, who hope for better and expect no worse, and gladly place them on the growing list.

Still, for all her careful planning and maneuvering, there are those that fall between the cracks, left unnoticed and unseen for too long.

She likes the look of him from the moment she lays eyes on him, something that has become increasingly rare over the years. He moves with the sort of quiet confidence she has not seen in even longer, eyes sharp as they take in his surroundings without giving anything away, and that intrigues her further.

"He's unpredictable," Sumner tells her, eyes focused on a point just beyond her shoulder, the perfect picture of a soldier at attention. "He's run with the wolves."

That, she knows, is far more telling than anything Sheppard's official records could ever reveal. Sumner is a good man, a professional and one not prone to exaggeration or embellishment. What he said, what he did was grounded in what he believed in, what he fought for and what he knew to be right.

"And you feel this makes him somehow unsuitable for the expedition." She has to ask, because it is her responsibility and ultimately her decision, but she won't go into it blind.

Sumner's jaw flexes, and he drops his eyes to meet hers squarely for the first time since they've met. "He's feral."

Her eyes narrow, because she knows exactly what he means. "And you don't trust him, despite his record previous to the...incident in Afghanistan."

Sumner's expression hardens and she can all but see his hackles rising. "I don't trust him because he deliberately disobeyed orders, Doctor Weir. I won't have someone I can't rely on to obey orders at my back in a potentially hostile environment."

"I understand." And she does, because if she decides to bring him, he will not only be Sumner's problem, but hers as well. "I'll give your recommendations and words of advice all due consideration in the matter." She will, but in the end she knows the real choice, the only one left if they hope to go to Atlantis, is out of her hands.


====
====


Sheppard, she's gratified to see, doesn't hesitate to look her in the eyes. He doesn't stare at some indeterminate point beyond her shoulder, doesn't bother to come to attention in her presence, and he certainly doesn't trust her.

"Why are you here?" She asks him, glancing at his record while she waits for his answer.

She can see the response he want to give in the twist of his lips, the flicker of emotion in his eyes, but all he says is that he was given a choice, and given that choice he decided on being able to fly rather than lose his wings altogether.

He is polite although she easily senses the undercurrent of annoyance and boredom, and even deeper, the bitter, bitter resentment of being called to heel like this.

"Why are you here?" She asks again, and he looks at her, eyes narrowing as he feels the thread of command she imbues in her words.

"Because they can't get rid of me." He almost sounds amused. "They've paid too much to train me and they want their money's worth."

She takes a risk, and allows her voice to go cold as though everything she hopes for doesn't ride on one man's shoulders. "Everyone wants a good guard dog."

He bares his teeth in something like a smile. "Oh, believe me, Doctor Weir, the military loves us. Boy, do they ever."

Elizabeth sighs, closing the file. She's far, far too familiar with this, his reaction. Even though she was hoping for it, that doesn't make the lingering bitterness at the back of her throat go away. "But they don't understand you."

Sheppard snorts. "No one does."

It's true, of course, because no matter how many studies are done, no matter how much research is conducted, humans will never understand the startlingly delicate hierarchies built by people like them. They can compare Sheppard and Sumner and their men to wolf packs all they like, but they'll never even begin to scratch the surface as to the true nature of the societal structures within.

Just as it is with them, so it is with her people. None of that will ever change on Earth of course, where fear and prejudice reign supreme. Where the unknown is something to be reviled.

"Perhaps it's time for all of that to change." Elizabeth says, smiling a little when Sheppard blinks at her in surprise. "Atlantis is the chance of a lifetime, Major. The possibilities are endless, and I for one am looking forward to what we can do out there."

He stares at her, stunned and uncertain as to her motivations, and she smiles, revealing sharp teeth of her own. "Think about it, Major."


====
====


Rodney is, as always, unpredictable.

He greets her news regarding the newest addition to the expedition with biting sarcasm that doesn't quite disguise the genuine excitement in his eyes. The news that the man isn't human comes as no surprise to him, and the look he gives her for her feigned astonishment causes her to smile.

"Please, Elizabeth," he says, giving her a pained look as they navigate the corridors of the Ancient outpost, "none of the military personnel General O'Neill has seen fit to assign to the expedition are human, which, strangely enough, fills me with relief."

"Oh?" She'll never admit to it, but she finds Rodney McKay infinitely amusing and somewhat refreshing, if only because he doesn't seem to realize the necessity of tact.

"Well, yes." He answers, frowning at her. "Obviously we're going to encounter hostile aliens at some point, I'd rather we do that knowing we're being protected by people who are notorious for eviscerating their enemies."

"Because that's the civilized way of doing things." She says, reflecting on a conversation they'd shared regarding the Canadian way of life versus the American way of life and which was clearly 'superior'.

Rodney snorts and glances at a passing marine. "God no, because it means we'll have a better chance of surviving whatever's out there."

Elizabeth's smile falters as she looks at him, forced to realize that for all his bluster, his ego and grand posturing, in the end he's merely human. Fragile and easily broken compared to the others that walk these same hallways.

"Besides," Rodney continues, eyeing her curiously, "isn't that a little like the pot calling the kettle black?"

It is, and really, she should know by now that Rodney would be the one to call her on it. "There are people that would think differently." She says, choosing her words carefully, diplomatically, and laughs at the look of pure disgust that crosses his face.

"Ah, yes, but they're obviously idiots."

"Obviously."

Rodney glares at her, unafraid to meet her gaze, and perhaps it is Rodney McKay's lack of tact and refusal to bow to social norms that fascinate her most of all, because he isn't afraid of her and never has been.

"Let's go see what this Major of yours can do besides provide us with a galactic directory." He finally says, expression shifting from annoyance to awkward and back again in the span of a heartbeat. "And don't even try to deny that he isn't yours."

She doesn't, because all of them, human or not, are.


====
====


When Sheppard and the remains of his team stream through the stargate with the Athosian survivors, she feels some of her control slipping away. Sheppard immediately takes command of the military contingent, barking orders and grounding his men in the familiar.

They're wary of him at first, reacting to the fact that he doesn't move like them, doesn't think like them. They circle one another, nervous and spooked by what they've found in Pegasus, hackles raised and teeth bared as they struggle to ground themselves. Sheppard makes it harder for them, because he is exactly what Sumner told her: unpredictable, dangerous - feral.

Not even her influence is enough to calm them, and somehow, she doesn't want them calm. She wants them cautious and alert, she wants them to be on their guard since they've made the unforgivable mistake of letting it down once already.

Sheppard corners her on a balcony just off the gate room, furious, pacing the contained area like a caged animal before turning to her and demanding to be allowed to mount a rescue mission.

She refuses, because she doesn't know him. She refuses because she sees something in him she would like to believe in, but can't without sufficient proof. She refuses because she needs to know who he is.

"You remember that little talk we had in Antarctica?" He asks, voice deadly quiet. "You remember how I said the military loves us? I mean, what's not to love? Built in hierarchy, tight knit units, stealthy, vicious, fast - " Sheppard take a moment to breathe, eyes closed as he tries to compose himself. "They couldn't have designed a better soldier if they'd tried."

Elizabeth knows all of this, she does. She's read the papers on the subject, read the reports, talked to the proper authorities on the matter. She knows what he's talking about far too well. Most of all, however, she has seen it with her own eyes, experienced that same hateful frame of mind more often than she cares to think about.

"They love us so damn much, but they never understand. They don't get that we don't leave ours behind, that we never leave ours behind."

"Because it goes against pack law."

Sheppard's eyes snap open and he begins pacing again. "Because it's not right" He snarls.

And there, that was what she needed to know, what she needed to see.

She has seen so many people like him, bright and sharp and dangerous, over the years, and she has seen them vanish from existence in so many ways. She has no wish to see the same happen to him.

"Tell me how you'd do it." She asks, and smiles inwardly at the look she gets for that. "I won't risk more people unless your strategy is sound."

"We don't have time for this!" He snaps, impatient and still so, so furious. "The Wraith - "

"The Wraith have brought their war to us on a personal level," she says quietly, "and I have every intention to retaliate, but only if it means no unnecessary risk of life."

She knows she's managed to surprise him with this, strangely, satisfied that she retains that ability even now. "I've seen enough war to last several lifetimes, Major Sheppard, I know what I'm asking for."

He stares at her for a long moment, silent and still, and nods with something like respect as he goes into detail about his plans, mapping out strategy and contingencies with the air of a soldier with many more years experience than his age would imply.

In the end, there is no question, and she watches Sheppard preparing his men for the rescue mission, sharp-eyed and vigilant, missing nothing. Sumner's words come to mind unbidden, and Elizabeth thinks that even the wolves will learn to fear Sheppard and his men when he's done.