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"Ancient 101"
by Grey Lupous
Summary: Elizabeth tries to teach the expedition a little Ancient. Try being the key word here.
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"Now, if you notice, the verb iaceo means 'to lie prostrate
or dead', and iacio means 'to throw or hurl'. If you aren't
paying attention, you might have a very interesting translation, but
it would be wrong and potentially dangerous."
"Or potentially hilarious," Sheppard leant forward, whispering into
Ford's ear.
The Lieutenant covered his smile with a hand, and leaned forward so
he could pay attention, and stay out of trouble. One seat over and
up from Sheppard, McKay sent a stern "Pay attention!" glare in his
direction. The major smiled and waved, in which the scientist just
huffed and pointedly turned his attention back to the front of the
room where Weir was speaking.
It had been decided that every expedition member should have at
least some grasp on the Ancient language, as it was prevalent all
over Atlantis and most of the Pegasus Galaxy as well. Teyla sat at
the front of the room, busily taking notes. The Athosians spoke the
language through prayers, but the actual grammar and writing system
was new to her. Next to her he could see Dr. Zelenka sitting up,
paying perfect attention. Suck up.
Ford had mentioned something about "no habla antiguo" before they
started, but seemed to be paying some attention to the lesson.
Before they started McKay had proudly declared that he knew enough
to teach the class, in a voice quiet enough to not attract Weir's
attention. However Sheppard spotted the scientist scribbling
something down every now and then when he thought no one was
looking.
And John?
John was bored out of his skull. He jammed a hand into his pocket as
Weir started teaching the various forms of conjugation depending on
what tense. It all reminded him too much of his days in high school
where he had to listen to Mrs. Jones drone on ad nauseum in German.
He smothered a yawn with the pretense of a soft cough. God, this
hour was going to kill him before the Wraith or the Genii ever
would.
He glanced at his half-empty cup of water, wishing for the world it
was something stronger. John Sheppard was not a grammar man, nor
would he ever be. His eyes focused on the straw he had pilfered from
the mess, mainly because it seemed to irritate McKay. Something
about laziness and expending the energy to pick up a cup. He hadn't
really been listening; it was a habit with Rodney, one of pure
self-preservation. He zeroed in on the straw, an evil, juvenile
thought forming in the back of his mind.
Keeping one eye on Weir he plucked the straw from its resting place,
then slowly and very quietly tore a piece of paper from his notepad.
She continued to drone on. And on. And on. In no time at all
Sheppard had a small cache of ammo built up on his desk, and cast
his gaze about the room for a target. He could try and hit the palm
sensor to the door and to freedom. Perhaps if Weir thought there was
a malfunction she would dismiss this hour of slow-torture early.
John could also aim for the window, another avenue of freedom, and
maybe spell out an 'SOS' to the Athosians on the mainland. Or...
Sheppard's gaze settled on an alternative target, and he couldn't
keep an evil smile from taking over. Oh yes. This was too good of an
opportunity to pass up.
Bringing his straw to bear, he took aim, and then fired.
The spit wad hit McKay in the back of the neck, sticking to the
skin. From his vantage point, John could see the scientist's eyes
widen in comic revulsion before he whipped his head around to stare
at his attacker. John smiled ferally and raised his straw again.
Rodney pointed an angry finger at the officer in an attempt to
forestall the next attack, but it just gave Sheppard something else
to aim at. Rodney let out a sickened gasp and quickly flung the spit
wad off his finger – right onto Ford.
The marine had a similar reaction, and after safely disposing of the
offensive object, turned an annoyed glare onto Rodney, who simply
pointed back in John's direction.
Sheppard ignored Ford's confused look and instead fired off a volley
of spit wads at McKay. Rodney brought up an arm to shield his face,
effectively blocking the projectiles, but also covering his jacket
with the things.
Weir, in the throes of Ancient conjugation, did not seem notice the
sudden commotion.
Mentally, Sheppard let out a maniacal cackle as he prepared the next
round of fire. Rodney, quickly realizing that Atlantis's military
commander had lost his mind, prepared a defense, taking his stack of
papers and crumpling them up into tiny little cannon balls.
Sheppard fired off the next round, which McKay deflected again, and
lobbied return fire. Surprisingly the scientist had decent aim, and
the paper ball bounced off of Sheppard's forehead.
"That's it!" He mouthed to the scientist, scooping up a handful of
the tiny wads that he had assembled.
Rodney's eyes widened, and just as Sheppard unleashed the next round
of fire, ducked out of his chair, grabbing an armful of his paper
balls. Sheppard kept up a steady stream of fire that had McKay
dancing around the room trying to dodge and return fire at the same
time.
John grabbed the rest of his ammunition, having to abandon his post
as well to avoid being hit. So single-minded was his focus, he
didn't seem to notice that Weir had stopped her lesson, or in fact
that the entire room was staring. He dodged another incoming shot
from McKay, and finally caught sight of Weir glaring, eyes fixed
straight on him. He dropped the rest of his ammunition and quickly
hid the straw behind his back. Out of the corner of his eye he could
see McKay go suddenly still as well.
She didn't say anything, just raised an eyebrow at both of them.
John plastered on the most innocent expression he could muster, and
with a straight face he used his free hand to point to Rodney.
"He started it."
McKay's mouth flopped open. "I did not!"
Weir pressed her lips into a thin line and her brow scrunched up in
vehement disapproval. Rodney and John exchanged nervous glances, and
slowly returned to their seats. She stared at them for a few more
long moments, before returning to her lesson. Thoroughly chastised
Sheppard stared ahead, determined not to attract any more attention
to himself. In front of him, he could see Ford's shoulders bunched
up, shaking in silent laughter.
John petulantly slouched down in his seat, eyes drifting down as a
folded sheet of paper was slid under his seat. With a glance at
Weir, he considered bending down to pick it up, but she was casting
a glance in his direction every few seconds. Not one to be dissuaded
by little things such as the fury of a linguist interrupted, he slid
the paper across the ground with his foot until it reached the chair
leg. From there he used his boot to hike it up the chair's leg until
he could grab it with his hand. Curious, he looked about the room
but everyone was staring straight ahead.
With a shrug, he opened up the paper to find a note –
Rematch. Jumper Bay. Tonight.
No witnesses.
He recognized the chicken scratch writing as McKay's, and looked up
to see the scientist stealing a peek back. He inclined his head,
accepting the challenge. Now all he had to do was make it through
the rest of the hour. Up at the front of the room, Weir continued to
drone on, entirely too excited about the past imperfect tense.
His gaze fell back to his notepad, and couldn't stop the grin that
spread across his face.
~ Fin ~
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