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Summary: From inside came a strain of mournful keyboard music and a man’s voice crooning, “And let me be alone again…” Carson was transfixed with horror.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Stargate > Non-BtVS/AtS StoriesStrangerFR181516,43423113,96822 Jul 072 Mar 08No

Part 15 / Coup D'etat

AN: Missing scenes for "Coup D'etat". A little short, but you'll survive.

15 – Coup D’etat

Casper was giving Carson a cautious look.

“So,” he said, head kilted slightly to the side, dark eyes narrowed. “It’s not them.”

“No, lad,” Carson sighed for the third time, long-suffering in the extreme.

The young man sagged against the nearest bed, visibly relieved, and not a little exhausted.

“Just making sure,” he said, running one hand through his hair. It had been a little long when he’d arrived in the City, now it was just downright shaggy. Casper had been making noises about getting a haircut; he’d muttered something about looking a right dipshit with a ponytail and no one was quick to dissuade him of this opinion.

Carson gave him a sympathetic look. “I know you’re friends with Major Lorne, you’ve every right t’ be worried. That reminds me; how’s the lass, Genny?”

Casper let out a truly monstrous sigh and scrubbed his face with both hands, then peered at Carson over the tips of his fingers for a few moments. Suddenly decisive, he told the doctor,

“Know what? You can come and see for yourself; I’m gonna go tell her in person ‘bout Lorne and his boys, so you might as well come along and validate it all.”

Carson experienced an uncomfortable dropping sensation somewhere around his gut, something he usually associated with imminent chaos and perturbment. In Atlantis, he got it about every other week, and at this rate was going to develop stomach ulcers.

“Ah, well,” he began, “I would, Casper, really I would, but, ah…I’ve got t’ work on this case y’see, and –”

– And yet despite this, he found himself being dragged off to the civilian quarters and standing in front of what was evidently Genny’s door.

From inside came a strain of mournful keyboard music and a man’s voice crooning, “And let me be alone again…”

Carson was transfixed with horror.

“Is that…?”

“Dan Fogelburg,” Casper said grimly, his face set. “Genny’s sad music.”

Shortly after there was a saxophone solo.

Casper shuddered. “Right,” he muttered. “Let’s get this over with.”

He swiped the door open, and the music rose several decibels, washing over them.

“Oh bloody hell,” said Carson, at the sight that greeted them.

It reeked of a flashback from an eighties tear-jerker. There was Genny, slumped gracefully over the Ancient’s version of boom box (dug out of some of the old residences two towers over) wearing her ‘home’ clothes of grey leggings and over-sized green t-shirt. Her hair was a mess of faded orange, and every so often a great heavy sigh could be heard, interspersed with hiccups reminiscent of small frogs. To really finish the scene off, a light rain had begun, and was currently beating against the coloured glass panels of Genny’s French doors, which she was gazing out of. The whole room was fuzzed with washed out blue light.

At the sound of the door opening, Genny looked over her shoulder at them, her face a picture of woe. She did not cry well, Carson noticed. Her face was blotched and tear-stained, both eyes and nose a painful looking red contrasting with her pale skin and freckles. Combined with her wide mouth and green shirt, she did look rather frog-like.

“Listen to the rhythm of the falling rain…” Fogelburg exhorted.

Casper gave the boom box a baleful glare before stalking halfway into the room and saying to Genny, very firmly, “Gen, it’s not them.”

She must have given the machine the stop command out of surprise because the music suddenly cut.

“What?” she whispered roughly in the abrupt quiet.

“It’s not them,” Casper told her. “The bodies Sheppard found; it’s not Lorne and his team, it’s some other unlucky buggers. Look,” he added at her incredulous look, “if you don’t believe me you can ask Dr. Beckett.”

Carson cautiously stepped forward. “Aye, it’s all true; ran the DNA myself.”

There seemed to be a moment of stillness, like the proverbial quiet before a storm, and then the girl let out a scream of happiness and launched herself at Casper. The young Aussie caught her, thankfully, and swung her in a gentle circle while she squealed happily into his shoulder.

Carson, mistakenly thinking he had escaped, watched with an indulgent sort of smile on his face. That is, he did until Casper put Genny down and she leapt for his throat. Quite without warning, he suddenly had an armful of delighted, shrieking female and was almost smothered by a cloud of sea salt scented curls.

“Augh,” said Carson ineffectually.

“Oh thank god, thank god, thank god, thank god,” Genny squeaked in his ear.

She released him rather quickly, so most of his hearing was saved, and gave him a brilliant smile, which more than made up for the tear-stains and bloodshot eyes. Carson returned it, before she pecked him once on either cheek and then darted off to hug Casper again. Next thing they knew, she’d swooped out the door, calling that she was off to tell Dr. Berry.

“Well,” Casper sighed ruefully, “that could’ve been worse.” He glowered again at the boom box.

Carson shared the sentiment. “It’s a bugger of a thing that she’s the only one that the gene took to out of the three of you.”

“You’re telling me,” the assistant muttered.

“You know,” Carson felt he had to warn. “Just because those bodies aren’t them, doesn’t mean they’re not…”

Casper nodded solemnly. “I know, and so does Gen, but it makes a big difference that there’s still a chance that they’re alive. And she needed that.”


“Thanks for coming, by the way.”

Carson gave him a look. “Its not like I had much choice,” he said tartly.

Casper only grinned, gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder and led him from Genny’s rooms.


Upon their arrival back from Ladon’s successful coup, Team’s Sheppard and Lorne were not in the same extremes of high spirits. Like Carson, however, they were not about to be given a choice in the matter.

They encountered Genny as they were walking back to the military quarters from the lockers and public bathrooms. John, Evan and Ronon were walking together, talking in low voices, understandably exhausted. The officers were giving Ronon a more detailed run down of the botched ZPM retrieval and coup.

All the warning they got was quick barefoot footsteps and then a cry of delight before Genny careened into them, hugging each exuberantly, even Ronon, who hadn’t been in any danger in the first place.

“You’re all alive,” she crowed, kicking her legs up as Ronon swung her a little, before he asked about chocolate (again).

John, having received his hug, eyed Genny’s half bare legs with wistful expression that he was careful to wipe away when Casper emerged. The Aussie wore a relieved, if moochy look, but appeared happier when he spotted Evan as Genny threatened to crush the life from him.

“The wanderers return,” he quipped, clapping the major on the back in a manly fashion.

There wasn’t much time for more talk though, because Genny then moved onto kisses, planted an uncomplicated wet one square on the lips of all save Casper, cooed at each of them and danced down the hallway back the way she’d come.

“Ah well,” Casper said, clapping Evan on the back again. “I’d better go and see she doesn’t bounce into any pot plants. See you lot tomorrow.”

And off he sloped, hands in his pockets.

Evan and John stood staring after them with stunned expressions, rather as though they’d been slapped in the face with a halibut. Oddly, Ronon didn’t seem too phased, regarding the hallway where the two Southern Hemispherites had disappeared down with a faintly smug expression.

“Okay,” John managed. “What the hell was that?”

“I think,” Evan answered, sounding careful and rather thoughtful, “that was Genny. When she’s relieved. Or she might’ve had coffee.”

Genny was banned from having coffee, or anything with a significant amount of caffeine for that matter. Casper had been the one to instigate the ban. When John had asked why, he’d given him a dark look before explaining.

Apparently he’d been a tutor during Genny’s first year of university before Doctor Berry had hired him, and had made friends with her then. During the mid semester holidays Genny had gone up north with friends and been dared to do seven espresso shots. Two hours later Casper had received a call informing him that Genny was prancing about in a local river, completely naked and singing Blondie’s ‘When I Think About You I Touch Myself’ at the top of her lungs, in plain view of passing motorists.

“Guess who had to go and get her?” Casper’d said, archly regarding John’s half empty coffee cup.

Now, there was a collectively mortified pause. The assistant’s earlier comment about pot plants might not be entirely in jest.

“Nah, Hayfield would’ve been pissed,” said Ronon. “She was just happy to see us.”

He shrugged his shoulders loosely, slapped both officers on the back hard enough to make them stumble and strode off in the direction of his quarters, saying with a smug smile, “I’ll get the chocolate tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” John agreed vaguely, still looking toward the corridor where she’d danced away, putting a hand to his mouth.

AN: The coffee shot story? Based on true events. It happened to a friend up in Kawakawa. For those Kiwis who know it, you know those three little bridges out by the railroad tracks…you’ll never look at the first the same again, I guarantee it.

The End?

You have reached the end of "Leviathan" – so far. This story is incomplete and the last chapter was posted on 2 Mar 08.

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