Work Text:
The morning the Mountie beams down into the gate room, John is still a little confused about the whole thing. The reasons for most personnel arrivals are typically fairly obvious, and hell, even the other guy due to transfer in today – an alien the SGC has a hard on for – makes some sort of sense. But a Mountie?
"He doesn't look like a Mountie," John murmurs to Rodney as the guy takes a look around him, a large pack slung over his shoulder. "Aren't they supposed to be in red or something?" Though he is wearing the hat.
Behind him, Chuck mutters something that John is pretty sure is foul language, and Rodney sighs. "The red serge is a dress uniform," he says, and he's speaking slowly, as though to a sad, stupid child.
The Mountie steps forward when he spots John. Or maybe it's Rodney he's looking at. Or Chuck? Then he's walking again towards them, and Jesus Christ, "Did this guy bring a dog?"
Rodney scoffs and Chuck steps forward and glares.
"Sheppard, please. As if the RCMP would send a dog to Atlantis," Rodney says, smoothing down his uniform. The uniform is already surprisingly unrumpled. "That's a wolf." He looks absurdly delighted.
The Mountie reaches them and stops, face pleasantly bland. "Doctor. Sergeant. Colonel," he says, greeting each of them in turn. "Thank you for being here to greet us."
"Are you kidding me, Sergeant Fraser," Rodney says, stepping forward. "What else would we be doing right now?"
And the thing is, the disquieting thing, the thing even more disturbing than Rodney grinning like that and having smoothed down a uniform that John is pretty sure he'd actually ironed, is that Rodney doesn't sound sarcastic. At all. "Seriously?" he asks. "You're that excited for this guy?"
"Excuse you, Colonel," he's fairly certain he hears from Chuck, and Rodney sighs noisily again.
John is about to ask what the fuck exactly is going on here when the new alien guy steps up beside the Mountie. "Hi, there! Jonas, Jonas Quinn. Oh, hi, Dr. McKay, it's great to see you again." He turns to the Mountie. "Wow. This place is pretty amazing isn't it, Benton? Much nicer than the mountain. You were right, Dief, it's stunning." He's wide-eyed with wonder, looking around him with a broad smile on his face, and John can't fault that.
So he opens his mouth to say something suitably welcoming. Maybe 'welcome to the jungle, we probably won't have an enemy incursion today, so get settled in'. But before he can say anything, Lorne walks into the gate room, maybe a little too fast, his expression intense, and shit, that's never a good sign, and this was supposed to be a quiet meet-and-greet –
"Holy Hannah!" Jonas yells, dropping his bag and moving to intercept Lorne, and then they're hugging. Lorne is looking remarkably pleased. John's never seen him look quite so – unserious. So cautiously optimistic.
He steps back to take in the whole scene.
Rodney and Chuck are beaming at the Mountie.
The Mountie is smiling indulgently at Lorne and Quinn.
Quinn has stepped back slightly and is grinning at Lorne, hands on his shoulders.
Lorne is a little flushed and half-smiling back.
There's a wet nose nudging his hand, and since when did animals even like him?
"What the fuck," he asks, "is going on here?"
No one seems to hear him.
Maybe the Genii will try to take the city again, he thinks a little desperately. At least that'll make sense.
==
"So, why are you here?" They're in John's office, ostensibly going over the city's security protocols so no one fucks anything up. Technically Quinn should be here too, but Lorne had looked at John – his expression somehow both fierce and bland at the same time, though maybe a little feral around the edges – and said, "I'll take care of that, sir."
So it's just John and the Mountie. And the wolf, who's currently curled up and apparently asleep.
The Mountie looks vaguely embarrassed. "Ah. Well. You see." He glances down at the wolf. "Diefenbaker. He's getting old, and as you know, when a wolf starts to get up in age, he wants to broaden his horizons. While he still can. I'm sure you understand."
This conversation makes absolutely no sense. At all. "The wolf."
"Yes. I'm ashamed to say that I pulled some strings. It seemed the least I could do."
"You pulled some strings." To bring a wolf to Atlantis.
The Mountie – Sergeant Benton Fraser, John reminds himself – nods. "Of course, this is technically an official visit. A quick check-in and debrief for the Canadian expedition members. After all, they were cut off from us for over a year." He smiles indulgently. "You know how the Prime Minister's Office can get about those kinds of things. We can't have our people feeling isolated or abandoned. I just called in some favours and got us assigned to the job."
"Diefenbaker?" John asks, because what, and also, that's a weird name for a wolf, and once more, what?
"No, no, the current Prime Minister is the right honourable Paul Martin. Of course."
Right. Right. Of course. "What the fuck is going on here?" He hopes he doesn't sound as stunned and confused as he feels.
"There are care packages for Dr. McKay and Sergeant Campbell, naturally," Fraser points to his pack. "A few key staples, the taste of home, some sensible mittens, that sort of thing. Oh, and this is for you," he reaches down and pulls out a large orange and white tin decorated with a woodland scene. 100% Grade A Canadian Maple Syrup, John reads.
"There's one for Dr. Weir as well. A bit of comfort during trying times."
OK fine, the pancakes in the city are a little dry and sometimes they taste not unlike dirt, so this is a gift that John can appreciate. "That's kind of you," he says, and he's quite sure his tone is calm, level.
The Mountie beams at him and stands up. "So. Perhaps a tour of the city before I start with the debriefs of Dr. McKay and Sergeant Campbell?"
Right. Right. Usually he'd delegate Lorne to tours, but Lorne is occupied and John isn't sure he could stand being stuck with both Fraser and Quinn, who seems unreasonably enthusiastic and maybe a little excitable. And he suspects Lorne would possibly glare at him if John suggested he take the tour, and also make him pay for it later in some subtle but annoying way.
And anyway what else does he, the chief military officer in the city, have to do besides give a tour to a guy with great posture and a nice smile, and also a uniform that might not be red but is nevertheless very flattering?
He barely has time to follow up that train of thought with questions about what exactly he's thinking, and again, what the fuck is going on here, before Fraser is walking out of the office, the wolf at his heels.
John hurries to catch up.
==
"The aesthetics of the city really are quite striking," Fraser says, as they walk through the halls. "Of course, I've seen photographs, but they really don't do it justice." He looks down at the wolf. "Diefenbaker, it looks like you were correct. The light is much more compelling in person." He turns to John. "So tell me. How are Dr. McKay and Sergeant Campbell adjusting to the present circumstances?"
Uh. Well. "I guess it depends on the day?"
Fraser nods. "Yes, I can imagine."
"Rodney is –" John can't quite think of the word.
"Brilliant? So I've heard. I understand he has saved the city on several occasions."
John nods because it's true enough, and Rodney's a good guy. "He also blew up three-quarters of a solar system once." He figures Fraser should have the whole picture.
Fraser's eyebrows raise slightly. "Three-quarters. My goodness. That's quite impressive."
Yes, yes it – wait. What?
"Rather restrained, I suppose, for a man of his combined genius and ego."
Right. Right. "He had one of my marines trapped in his head with him for a while, too. That kind of sucked for him."
Fraser stops suddenly and John absolutely does not almost walk into him.
"That must have been particularly disconcerting." Fraser sounds both annoyed and possibly fond. "I know a thing or two about someone apparently sharing your mind, and making a habit of interfering at inopportune times. It can be quite," he turns and looks pointedly at a wall, "distracting."
John looks at the wall. It's just a wall. "Yeah. I guess." He starts walking again, and Fraser falls into step beside him. "But I think he's doing well. He seems mostly happy. Maybe a little terrified sometimes, but generally happy. There’s a lot of interesting science stuff, right? He's pretty good off-world too, a lot better than he used to be."
Fraser smiles. "Excellent. And Sergeant Campbell?"
Chuck? How should John know? "Maybe ask Elizabeth about him. They work closely. He's pretty good at getting the gate shield up quickly, I guess."
"Well. That all sounds excellent."
Great. That's great. Because somehow he doesn't want Fraser to feel disappointed about anything, or to look at John like maybe he could have done a bit better. He's so focussed on this that he says, without really thinking about it, and before he can tell himself to shut up, "So. Would you like to join us on an off-world mission?" Fraser isn't due to leave with the Daedalus for several days.
Fraser stops walking again, and the wolf sits down. "What a kind suggestion, Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard. Diefenbaker and I would be delighted to join you on a mission to another planet."
"Good. Good. Glad to have you. Call me John."
Fraser smiles at him. "Thank you kindly, John."
John stands a little straighter and smiles back.
==
"Oh, I don't think so," Fraser says, the next day when John tries to convince him to wear their standard tactical gear before they head off-world. "I'm here in an official capacity, and it's best that I remain in uniform."
He does, at least, accept a sidearm.
So John walks through the gate with his team, a Mountie in his official and very nicely fitted uniform, and a wolf. He feels like there's a joke in there somewhere. Two humans, two aliens, a Mountie and a wolf walk into a bar…
Or maybe, he thinks, not much later, two Canadians, two aliens, a pilot and a wolf walk into an ambush and end up at a dinner party. With guns. "Ford," he says, trying to make his tone both a warning and an invitation.
His team is either glaring, uncertain, or cautiously optimistic. But John's not an idiot. Whatever Ford's doing here – whatever he's up to with his new so-called team members – isn't going to be pretty. He's about to try talking him down, when Fraser sticks his finger in the food, licks it, grimaces, says, "The food is tainted with something, don't eat it," and stands up.
"Now, son," Fraser says to Ford, tone firm but kind, "I don't know exactly what's going on here, but it seems to me that you're in the grip of something that you can't control and that isn't your fault. And do you really want to make it worse?"
Oh, Jesus.
Rodney is going to kill him if Fraser gets injured.
Rodney and Chuck.
"I once also found myself in a situation where I felt I was out of control, where I wasn't able to keep myself in check," the wolf whines, and nudges Fraser's hand, "and I wouldn't wish that on anyone else."
Ford glances at John. "Who the hell is this guy?"
Rodney snorts. "He's a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, obviously."
"Seriously?" Ford's eyes are wide. "A Mountie? And his little dog?"
"Wolf," Fraser, John, and Rodney say at the same time, loudly.
Stepping forward, Fraser adds, "Diefenbaker is on the smaller side for a wolf, but we don't like to mention it. He's a touch sensitive about the whole thing, so please be mindful of his feelings." Then he reaches out and puts his hand on Ford's shoulder, squeezing lightly. "I got through my ordeal because I had good friends who cared about me. Who helped me out when I couldn't help myself. And I think you have those friends here," he gestures at John and the others. "So why don't we all go home and figure this out?"
John tenses, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ronon casually reach for a hair knife. But Rodney is stepping forward and hooking his arm around Ford's shoulders, and he and Fraser are smiling at him in tandem and what the fuck is that? It's some kind of weirdly intense Canadian power smile, all white teeth and earnest looks, and when did Rodney learn to do that and why hasn't John seen it before?
John can't look away, and it seems that Ford can't either.
The wolf moves to sit on Ford's foot, and that clinches it – John sees it happen. Ford's shoulders slump a little and doubt, sadness, regret settle on his face.
Holy shit.
It's working.
"Bring your guys too," John says in the spirit of generosity and maybe also getting out of this alive. "If they want it." John softens his voice and says, "Come on, Lieutenant. We miss you."
"We really do," Rodney confirms.
"John and Rodney are correct," Teyla adds.
"Young man," Fraser says suddenly, turning towards one of Ford's guys who's raising a gun. "Just don't."
The guy drops his arm and looks almost contrite.
And that seems to be that. They get Ford – and even some of his guys – back to Atlantis, and Fraser and Rodney escort them all to the infirmary, Fraser talking quietly as they go, his hand still on Ford's shoulder.
"Great work, John," Elizabeth says, coming to stand beside him.
He'd love to take credit for it, but really, he can't. "Thank the Canadians," he mutters, "especially the Mountie." Next to him, the wolf barks.
Two Canadians, two aliens, a pilot and a wolf walk into an ambush…John's not sure what the punchline should be, but he's pretty fucking pleased with the outcome.
==
He runs into Lorne on his way to drop off his tac vest and weapons in the armory. "Major." Lorne looks surprisingly relaxed. Maybe slightly dishevelled and a little hungry, too.
Lorne nods at him. "Colonel. Good mission, I hear."
Shit, gossip moves fast through this city. "Yep. Pretty good. So. Your alien?"
Lorne shrugs. "Your Mountie?"
John shrugs right back, because no way is he getting into a conversation about Fraser. "Is Quinn planning on sticking around?" Because on paper his arrival is a trial, some kind of semi-official liaison for a planet John's never heard of. John can read between the lines, though. The guy's a refugee of some sort and for whatever reason, they don't really want him on Earth.
"Hell yes he is," Lorne says, squaring his shoulders and narrowing his eyes, like maybe he thinks John is going to fight him on it.
John is absolutely not going to fight him on it. "You know him pretty well, I take it?"
Lorne's shoulders relax and he grins. Genuinely grins. "Pretty fucking well, sir. From the days when we were both at the SGC."
Right. That's great. So by John's tally the last few days have included being ambushed and held at gunpoint by his enzyme-addled Lieutenant, and the addition of a handful of enzyme addict aliens and a new random alien to the city.
Plus being cursed at and glared at by Chuck.
So, all told, it's been a pretty tame week so far.
==
"Thank you kindly for your hospitality, Dr. Weir, Colonel Sheppard," Fraser says a couple of days later. His pack is on the floor of the gate room, and it's considerably smaller than it was when he'd arrived. "Diefenbaker and I have truly appreciated it."
The wolf barks twice and then whines a little. Fraser looks down at him indulgently. "Yes, of course, Dief, Ray would have loved it here, but you know how he feels about non-disclosure agreements, and you and I are not going to have this conversation again. Rules are rules for a reason. And that includes the rule about wolves staying off the bridge on the Daedalus."
John blinks rapidly when Fraser looks back up at them, and it's definitely because he still doesn't understand what Fraser is talking about half the time. "Uh. Sure. You're welcome back any time. Maybe as a formal liaison?" Because he wonders what else Fraser could do in the city. Maybe get the gene therapy and John could teach him to fly the puddlejumpers, his big hands moving over the control panel as though they were –
He shakes off that line of thought and determinedly thinks about something else. Like other things Fraser could maybe diffuse. Fraser versus the Genii. Fraser versus the Wraith?
No, that would be absurd.
But maybe Fraser versus John's paperwork, which seems to have more than doubled since Lorne became occupied with settling Quinn into the city. John can't figure out why it's taking so long for Quinn to adjust to everything. Maybe the guy is a little bit clueless.
Oh, but Fraser's smiling at him. "I'm afraid that won't be possible. But the invitation is very kind." He turns to Rodney and Chuck, who are both looking pretty glum. "Farewell, gentlemen. Continue your excellent work. Your home and native land are proud of you."
Both of them stand a little taller.
And then the Daedalus beams Sergeant Benton Fraser, RCMP, and one Diefenbaker the wolf out of the city.
There's a broken sob from somewhere in the room. John manfully ignores it, shakes off his own faint sense of loss, and turns away from the stargate, saying, "Come on, Rodney, let's go check on Ford."
End.