Turtle Soup: The George Adventure Series

This is a series of interconnected but complete humor stories. Rated I for Insanity.

Index: John and Rodney's Mainland Adventure; Rodney and Turtle's Atlantis Adventure; Rodney's Mermaid Adventure and The Trouble with Turtles.

(Posted separately: John and George's Christmas Adventure and Meets George the Turtle)

by Tazmy (sgatazmy on livejournal)

A/N: This story contains swearing. Beta'd by Layla and let me tell you, that was quite a feat for her to undertake. The extra whumping is specially for Kodiak.

Disclaimer: I don't own Stargate or the actors here. I make no profit and only do this for fun.

John and Rodney's Mainland Adventure

Some people might say I'm overreacting, but they're not the ones stuck lying in the infirmary 24-7, 10 days out of each month. Seriously, it's not that I'm accident-prone or even that I go looking for trouble, but that doesn't stop trouble from finding me and my team. Especially me, actually. So those that say I'm overreacting can just shove it and shut up, because I'm not spending another moment cramped in that disinfectant-smelling hell-hole of an infirmary, no way. Not a chance. If I have to stun every soldier from here to the Puddlejumpers, I will. I'm that desperate.

I caress the weapon in my hand as the crazed man that I am. Ten days will do that to someone. Ten days with no freedom left in sight. Hobbling against my cane, I limp forward and around the corner. Not a guard to be seen and isn't that just a little odd? I don't trust anything that is too easy. Anyone who says I'm overly cautious hasn't lived the life I have. Too easy means something is wrong.

The cold steel feels good in my fingers. Scrubs aren't made for holsters, but I wouldn't feel comfortable with it put away anyway. A ready weapon is ten times more powerful than one set to rest.

The rhythm of my heart guides my steps forward as I turn the next corner. Black catches my eye just on time for me to hide. Lieutenant Samson is doing rounds in this area, and well, he's a bit too good at his job for me to be on the other end of it. Lorne must have moved the duty roster around, because I had taken this longer route in order to avoid the man. I should know better. Nothing ever goes according to plan early on. It's one of those laws written long ago, probably by a crazed Ancient trying to mess with the universe in some lasting way. I wonder if they can control individual destinies like that.

Lt. Samson turns my way and I swear he sees me, but his actions say otherwise. He just keeps walking, trying to avert his eyes, and now I'm sure something is up. Rodney would say I'm paranoid and that would be rich coming from him, because he's afraid of everything. Or at least he likes to let people think he is. But maybe he'd be right. Carson is a mollycoddling-terror that would have the head of anyone willing to help me escape. No one, and I mean no one, would be willing to feel his wrath for the likes of me. That's just a fact.

As Samson makes his merry-and doubtfully ignorant way—out of the hall, I start counting. Ten seconds later and I'm exposed again, but there's no sign of shadows and I still have a few more corridors to trek before I'm free.

"Colonel Sheppard, please respond."

Carson. He may not be in the room but I can still feel his admonishing stare breathe fire against my skin. It's real enough in fact that I'm sure it's going to leave a sunburn.

"Colonel, this is Dr. Beckett. Please respond."

Yeah right. One click on my headset and I'm on a one-way trip back to medicated-ville. Not my idea of fun and not going to happen. Mother Hen will just have to stew for a while.

"Colonel Sheppard, this Elizabeth. I know you grabbed your headset and can thus hear me. I am ordering you to state your position."

I'm already to the docking bay before they start using the intercom. My men are on alert now, which means dodging them has been a pain. No one's guarding the bay though. Not beyond the normal amount anyway, and they were easy enough to take out. That's why I chose to come here. No one would think I would go this far. I usually go to the Eastern Pier, but this time I really want to be alone and for a good long while; if that means taking more drastic measures, than so be it. So I shoot at my own men and enter as a cat about to pounce. I should probably feel guilty about stunning them like that, but how else are they going to learn to get better at their jobs? Not exactly the most painful experience either, and I don't have time to dwell on it.

I waste no time choosing which jumper to take. Jumper Two is my ship and my salvation. She'll get me free, even if I'm not sure how yet. Her back hatch opens with ease and I crawl inside, my limp hindering me only so much as I can't control it. It's time for the homestretch, but this is the hard part.

"You took your sweet time getting here," a snide voice remarks from the pilot seat.

Shit. I swing around, nearly toppling over myself in the process. "Rodney? What the hell are you doing here?" I give my best intimidating face, complete with full out annoyance and the 'don't make me shoot you' look.

The chair squeaks as McKay swivels his way around to face me. He has the audacity to smirk when he should look abashed. "I could ask the same thing, but it would be pointless, wouldn't it?" he says.

I finger the trigger on my weapon. It's just stun, he can handle it. "Rodney..."

"Let this be a lesson to you, Colonel: When executing grand escape plans, don't be transparent."

"Out of my way, McKay." I raise the weapon just enough for him to see it, and sure enough his blue eyes trace down my scrubs to land on the object in question. I expect him to freak out, panic, or maybe just act annoyed. He does none of the above, though. He laughs. The ever-terrified McKay is faced with me threatening to shoot him and what does he do? He laughs!

"And how exactly do you plan to lift a jumper without anyone noticing? Hmm? Wait; let me guess, you don't know? You were planning to go off half-cocked, and figure out explaining your actions later. Am I right?"

So I haven't shot him yet and I'm really not sure why. Problem is, he has a point. Getting here was the easy part, but there's no way I can get out on my own. "I'm not staying here."

"And I'm not leaving. Don't forget the safety protocols I installed after Ford's little show. If Elizabeth wants to stop this ship from leaving, she can and will. Do you really think, that she's going to just let you go?"

"You think I came this far without a plan?" It never ceases to amaze me how one man can annoy me more than a pack of angry guerrilla fighters.

"Yes actually."

I want nothing more than to erase the smug expression off his face. Smartest man in two galaxies, maybe. Most egotistical? No contest. And I chose him for my team again why?

I don't answer right away. My weapon is more level now and shooting him still seems like the best idea. Still haven't done it, though. Still don't know why.

Ever the talkative—or rather impossible to shut up—one, McKay takes my turn at speaking. "You are such a child sometimes, you know that?" He turns back toward the controls and I can feel my heart skip a few beats. The rat bastard is going to turn me in? After everything we've been through...

"Rodney." A last warning. It takes too many to get through that thick skull of his.

He toggles the switch. So much for a window of opportunity. If I shoot him now, Control will hear it. His actions are nothing short of treason, and I make sure my eyes say so.

"Dr. McKay to Control. Puddlejumper Two is ready to disembark."

My jaw drops and McKay sends off a satisfied smirk that boils my stomach, but I'm smiling because he's just as transparent as he claims I was. I hear Elizabeth give us the all clear and out we go.

"You didn't think I'd let you out of here alone, did you?" he asks.

I shrug. "You might have. When were you going to let me in on the plan."

"I wanted to see if you'd shoot me first."

SGA

There's nothing like the New Athosian North Shore. Not anywhere else on this Ancient planet, in this galaxy, even back home—well, on Earth anyway-can compare to its beauty. Note, the fact that I just used the word 'beauty' here. That should tell you just how awesome this place is.

Streams of turquoise and aqua bask in the sun's light, and I'm doing the same as I lie still against the water's surface. Face down in the ocean, I can't hear a thing. Not McKay complaining. Not Carson worrying. Not a Wraith feeding. Solitude is what I'm talking about. Glorious, wonderful solitude and not a soul around to steal it from me.

Except Rodney.

My arms wide spread, I move in course with the waves, allowing the sea to take me as it wills. I don't know how long I've been like this, but Rodney still hasn't come out to drag me back to the surface. Blowing some air out my nose, I take a last moment to enjoy the water before rising my head above the water's edge. Rodney not complaining for this long...it can't mean anything good.

I look out to the shore, seeing little but red crusted sand and large, pterodactyl-like birds riding on the wind. No Rodney. No campsite. Crap.

I always hated the breast stroke as a kid, the way the water always finds some way to swivel it's way into my nostrils. So I keep my head above water even if it's not the proper way to swim as I hightail it to the sand. I have no idea how far I've traveled, and maybe I don't want to know. The currents here are strong; I should have known better.

I pass by a few red fish and a cat-like dolphin before testing for the ground. My toes don't hit bottom despite my poking. I swim a little further before trying again. The next time, I'm met with a painful sting as my skin breaks against a rock, but at least I've landed on the surface. Damn, that was my good foot too. Just one more wound for Carson to complain about, I guess.

I tread through the remaining waters at a quick pace. Bubbles on the surface can't mean anything good, and I don't want to meet whatever creature is making them. Problem is, it wants to meet me. I can tell by how close those bubbles are. The water is still well past my abdomen, so I kick myself into the quickest swim I can.

Now I'm not sure exactly what creature grabs at me, but I feel its slimy tendrils caress my skin before latching on in an a violent, burning maneuver. No one is around to hear me scream and thank God, because I'm pretty sure I just screamed like a girl. No kidding. The monster's attached itself to my bad leg, right up against my wound, and I swear it's sucking the blood straight out from under me. Shit. Shit. Shit.

Now some might say this is my own fault for going swimming in an alien ocean while injured. To them I say, once again, shove it. It's better than the infirmary. But damn doesn't it hurt. My own alien man-of-war is trying to drag me down with it, its red beady eyes glistening from just beneath the surface, glowing against the crimson blood that is quickly spreading into the blue. So not exactly a man-of-war then.

I want to do something heroic and smart here. Maybe pull out my gun and shoot it, or knife it, or find some cool sharp rock to stab it with. I don't though. All I do is kick. I kick with everything I have and the damn thing just won't loosen. As my head plummets beneath the water's edge, I'm starting to wonder why solitude seemed like such a good idea a while back. Where the hell was Rodney and what was he thinking leaving me alone like that?

I stop kicking for just a second, my exhaustion reaching levels even beyond my capabilities. I can take out a hive ship of Wraith but apparently not one life-sucking sea monster. What a pathetic way to die. I feel the tendril slowly release before I kick again. It seems to be too good to be true, but when I don't kick again I feel it unlatch itself from me. When I say unlatch, I mean rip itself off in an agonizing maneuver that sends me screaming again. Unfortunately, that just means I took in a mouthful of salt water. Great. Sheppard flavored ocean for dinner, just fucking great.

Bathing in one's own blood is not a fun experience. It's sticky and salty and...ugh... I crawl onto shore, landing face first on the sand and loving every breath of air. I don't dare look at my leg, but I'm sure Carson's going to have some...interesting...words for me once I get back. Desertion is starting to sound like a good idea.

"Colonel!"

Rodney. The panicked voice of my team's scientist echoes across the beach, and I lift my head from the sand, still coughing out some of that disgusting meal, to get a better look. He's running towards me with the widest eyes you've ever seen, his trademark stare of fear. "Rodney," I manage to say between gasps. "Where the hell have you been?"

He stops short of helping me up, taking a step back. There is his trademark hurt expression. I just got attacked by an alien sea monster, what the hell does he want out of me?

"You're hurt."

"Well, you did help me escape the infirmary. Answer my question."

"Oh. Yes, um..." He reaches out and pulls me up all while speaking so fast, my salt-encrusted ears can barely hear him. "I was following you via the shoreline because if you drown Carson will seriously have my ass."

"Glad to know you care."

"Yes, well, I lost sight of you round about the time the turtle started chasing me."

"Turtle?" I get attacked by a man-of-war on steroids and he gets a turtle. He looks hurt when I snort, but really, a turtle?

My blood matches with the sand. I'm just saying because it's sort of creepy.

"Laugh all you want Colonel, but you didn't see it! I'm talking an alien turtle that would easily beat the hare in any race and happens to have large pointy teeth and claws."

It's too good an opening, and I can't resist. Bleeding though I am, which Rodney still hasn't managed to do anything about, I have to say, "Think it's related to the rabbit?"

"What?"

"The Monty Python rabbit. It has very sharp teeth."

"Oh yes, I'm sure it's some distant cousin, thrice removed. Geez, what the hell did you do to yourself now."

"Nothing Carson can't fix. Back to the jumper?" I'm leaning on him far more than I should, but there isn't much I can do about that. Not unless I want to be stuck on this beach forever. I'm not sure why coming here seemed like such a good idea a while ago, must have been the drugs.

"You think they've figured it out yet?"

"What? That I brought you here? Maybe. The official trip was for me to take Teyla to the mainland. She's hiding out somewhere so no one notices she hasn't left. Probably still combing the city for you."

See, now that's why I chose him for my team. Forward thinking. Smart. Willing to help a prisoner escape the evil clutches of Dr. Beckett. I have a good team that way, we watch out for each other. Never thought I'd have that again, but I guess that is a different story.

"Um, Colonel." Rodney's voice shakes as he nudges me back to consciousness that I never knew I left.

I'm hoisted over his shoulders now and he feels about ready to fall over for the weight. He didn't make the team for strength, that's for sure.

"What?"

I couldn't have been out that long, but purples and reds have mixed with the horizon in the grand finale that is sunset. It's an awesome sight if ever there was one, and it looks golden against the red sand. I'll have to come back here again sometime. Maybe bring Ronon and Teyla along as well.

"Colonel?"

"What?" Damn. Drifted off again.

"Did you hear a word I just said?"

"No."

"We've got trouble. I mean, serious trouble."

I glance over his shoulder, pressing my good foot into the ground, ignoring my toe's complaint. So when he said turtle, he failed to mention a few things. Four foot tall turtle with claws. Yes, I know he said claws but we're talking fucking huge claws here that could probably snap me in half. It's beady eyes stare forward before it lifts open its mouth and let's just say large, pointy teeth doesn't even begin to cover it.

"Shoot it."

Swim shorts weren't exactly made for holstering weapons, but surely McKay—who has yet to change out of his uniform—has one. Right? Problem is, he's a lousy shot. So after a few balls rings against some innocent bark, I reach my sweat-laden hand toward the weapon and take my turn. Nothing. Reverberates against the shell without so much as making it flinch. It does, however, open its mouth wider and move forward.

Quick. No, Rodney was once again not exaggerating, which ticks me off because that is what I expect from him. He's supposed to make things sound ten thousand times worse than they are, not the other way around. I can't run either, but I gimp my way around, all while holding onto Rodney's shoulder. In the end, we just topple over and the turtle-from-hell scampers over. I blink and he's crossed the good three-hundred feet that separated us, only to start sniffing up and down my face.

I try to shoot it again. Works about as well as Rodney shooting the trees. It's not biting though. I wouldn't be alive if it were.

Did I mention that this turtle had a beak? No kidding. A soft beak covered in pointy teeth, and it's now poking around in Rodney's pants. The poor scientist is too terrified to move.

"Get away," he cries. "Oh God, it's in my pants. What the hell kind of creature does this. We're going to die. I should have known that helping you is always bad. Always."

"Hey!"

"Well it's true."

Our turtle friend backs up, taking its beak along with it. It found its horde, a few powerbars and an MRE. Eats them up whole—aluminum and all-and just starts walking away. I feel like a kid that just got jumped for lunch money. I'm alive though, as surreal as that little experience was.

"Hey. Those are mine!"

"McKay, let's not aggravate the sharp-toothed monster that just decided to leave us alone."

"It just stole our food!"

We arrive back to the campsite only to find it's not our campsite at all. Shit. See, the problem with a cloaked jumper is just that, it's cloaked. Invisible. Impossible to see. Every bit of the shore looks the same and Rodney and I failed to remember where we parked. Guess I'm not Kirk after all.

It's nightfall now. No one has come looking for us. Rodney's convinced we're going to die out here, but when isn't he convinced of that?

We make camp, McKay using what materials he managed to bring with him to wrap up my leg. A nurse Rodney is not, but my leg needs care. The lush bruising is a sight to behold and it keeps even me from saying that I'm all right.

"Thanks by the way."

"For what?"

"Helping me out."

"You ended up injured!"

"Yeah. But I needed this. Thanks."

Rodney doesn't reply, but his trademark smirk says it all. It's damn good to have friends...family. Never would have believed that about family before, but it's true.

A few more hours into the night, I'm lying face up on a beach towel and smiling. This is why I came here. Nothing but the stars, the sea, and calm. No one asking for me to make a decision. No Wraith around the corner.

Tendrils of smoke swivel into the air. Rodney actually managed to catch a fish and start a fire. I'm impressed but I'm not about to tell him that. Smells something awful though, and I'm not so sure I'm hungry.

It turns out the fish has its own brand of chicken feet around here as well as some strange rectangular fins. Charred up, it's more crunchy than I'd expect. It actually tastes like bark rather than fish, but I'm thinking that is more due to Rodney's cooking that the fish itself.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Rodney yells mid-bite. I take a look around our little camp to come face to face with our beaked friend once more, the object of Rodney's frustration.

"At least we know it won't hurt us now," I say. Not so sure about that though, but we already know we can't outrun it or fight it, so hope is about all I have.

"Maybe."

I'm figuring this turtle probably has about a hundred legs on which it runs. Short, stubby, hairy, green legs that thrust it forward at an alarming pace. I jump back as it comes for me, because instincts and reflexes sometimes think on their own. Rodney does the same and the turtle for its part, I swear to God, smiles. The end of its beak curls up around the soft edges. What does it do next? Plop on our freshly made towels. Seriously. Just makes itself at home right on our campsite. That's not all either. It also devours the food both of us dropped in one bite.

McKay looks indignant and isn't that a funny sight in and of itself.

The turtle lies there for some minutes before lifting up on its feet. If turtles could stretch, I'd swear that's what it was doing now. It moves slowly this time as it approaches us. Neither of us try to run. I'm not the fatalistic type, I'll fight until the end, but something just leaves me standing there. Something that says that turtle won't do us any harm even if its pointy teeth say otherwise.

The creature crawls at a snail pace toward McKay, nudging at his leg.

"Oh shit. Oh shit. Get it off. Get it off." McKay's barely breathing, but not screaming. Just mumbling the words while trembling all over.

The turtle keeps nudging for a while before it starts walking forward again. When McKay doesn't move, the turtle nudges him again and starts walking.

"I think it wants us to follow."

"You cannot be serious," he cries. I am and so is the turtle as it nudges him a third time.

"Remind me never to help you again." I start the trek forward, beckoning for McKay to follow. Since I have to lean on him, he doesn't have much of a choice. He does, however, start with a reluctant 'this isn't fair' kick. They say laughter is the best medicine, and I've definitely had my share today just form watching McKay's reactions.

As far as turtles go, this one isn't so bad. It stops after some thousand paces, and twirls in its own circle. It turns toward me, baring its teeth with a smile. Me? I'm stupid enough to keep walking and land into a hard metal object for my trouble. Rubbing my temple, whose pain is a dull throb compared to my leg, I realize we just hit gold. No metal in sight plus impact equals cloaked jumper. Alleluia.

"You okay?" McKay nearly topples over himself but catches a nearby root. No one can say he didn't get his exercise today at least.

"Yeah."

We say farewell to our turtle friend, who seems to think he should come along for the ride. When I start to close the hatch, I'm blocking the entrance with my body despite its sharp teeth. Well, turtle, he won't have anything of it. He jolts over, knocking me forward and takes his place on the shuttle floor.

McKay just looks at me before take off, and I stare back. I'm now convinced that escaping the infirmary was the smartest thing I could have done. Alien turtles and scared McKays are far more entertaining than IV drips. But to tell the truth, I'm a little terrified now and so is my traveling companion. Using a shuttle to escape the infirmary, that's bad enough to incur Elizabeth's holly-terror-wrath. But bringing along an stubborn, alien turtle...well...some things just can't be explained.

"Let's go home," I say, taking my place at the helm. I don't care how injured I am, McKay's not going to drive.

"You had Samson in on the plan, didn't you?" We're well into the air now and dreading our return back.

McKay just smiles. Probably best I don't know, because soldiers getting paid off to not to do their jobs isn't something I should know about when it regards them helping me. I'm thankful though. And to think I was all ready to shoot Rodney earlier.

Carson looks ready to have an epileptic fit when we land in the bay. The turtle throws him for a loop.

"It followed us home."

Elizabeth looks doubtful and furious.

Lying back in the infirmary bed, I'm told I just bought myself another week here. Some may say it's my own fault for leaving, but I say it was worth it. "Same time tomorrow," I tell McKay before Carson's drugs drag me into the dreamworld.