Image Heavy

by unadrift

The spyhole in the heavy wooden door opened on the second knock.

John took a step back. "Hello. I'm Colonel John Sheppard and this is--"

"Marantio, on the steps of Weylon Palace," the muffled voice of the doorkeeper announced solemnly.

"Uh, okay. If you say so. We are--"

"Marantio," the voice repeated. "On the steps of Weylon Palace."

"Who?" Rodney snapped, entirely too close to John's right ear. "What does that mean?"

"How the hell should I know?" John hissed. "Teyla?"

He jumped when Teyla whispered into his left ear. Really, the corridor wasn't that narrow. "This is a most unusual greeting." Meaning: she had no clue either.

"It's a code," Ronon said from behind them, but thankfully not anywhere up close.

"Oh, aren't you the clever one," Rodney mocked. "And that insight helps us-- how exactly?"

"Marantio." The doorkeeper was speaking slowly now, pronouncing every word with great care. "On the steps of Weylon Palace."

"Hey," Rodney said, snapping his fingers. "You know what, I've seen this Star Trek episode before."

"McKay?"

"Speaking in pictures, myths. In stories. He's guarding this place. We're demanding entrance, so you're supposed to say something like, uh, the prince, calling for Rapunzel, or Don Quixote, fighting windmills, or, or the frog in the well, begging a kiss, or whatever."

"You think a kiss would get us in?" Ronon asked, amused. "A kiss from you?"

"It's not meant literally, moron! Can't you grasp even that simple concept? And thank you for the vote of confidence. I'll have you know that no one has ever complained about--"

"Oh, you mean 'Darmok' from The Next Generation," John said, frowning.

"Now you've got it," McKay spoke into his ear, not bothering to dial down the volume.

John made a face. "Yes, I've got it."

Teyla kept breathing down his neck distractingly. "What does this mean, Colonel?"

Shifting from one foot to the other, John asked, "Can anyone tell me why we are standing so close?"

"Spears," Ronon said, as if it explained everything.

And, well. It did.

Rodney looked over his shoulder, then inched just that little bit closer to John. "I hate it when pointy things are pointed at me."

"Really?" John said. "You could have fooled me."

"Well, technically it's only Ronon's back they are pointed at right now. Good thing it's so, so broad--"

"Marantio," the doorkeeper interrupted him, mercifully, then added, "The mighty Kalaun, down to his last horse."

There was a moment of silence. "I think his patience is running out," Rodney translated.

"Thanks, McKay, we got that," John said, dead-pan. "Okay. We're friends, we come in peace. How do you say that in picturesque?"

"Uh," Rodney's shoulder bumped against John's back when he shrugged. "I'm usually more of a non-fiction kind of person."

"Figures," John muttered, then cleared his throat. "Better start at the beginning. Odysseus, sailing the seas," he intoned.

"Ah." Rodney nodded. "We're travelers. Nice. Not that they will actually get the meaning."

"Our efforts will surely be appreciated," Teyla assured him.

"They better be," John muttered. "Sleeping beauty, awaiting the prince's kiss."

Rodney snorted, then said under his breath, "Of course, Atlantis was waiting just for the ATA prince to come along. What else?"

"Why is everyone kissing in all your stories?" Ronon asked. "That's boring."

"The phoenix," John interrupted pointedly, "rising from the ashes."

"Ooh, good one. I bow to your poetic streak. But can you get to the we're-friends-and-do-you-happen-to-have-a-ZPM-lying-around part now?" Rodney advised impatiently, and, and-- he had better not just patted John's ass.

"Right." John shot him a dark look. "Friends. Friends. A tale about friendship? Uh, help me out here."

"Perhaps--" Teyla started.

"Harry, Ron and Hermione," Ronon supplied, "entering the chamber of secrets."

Rodney froze, then drew a deep breath. "You did not just say that! He did not just-- Did you show Harry Potter to him? Oh my god, you did! There's hundreds of movies to choose from and you decide on--"

"I read it. It's good," Ronon said.

"You can read?"

"Doctor," Teyla said warningly. She inclined her head at the door. "We are peaceful?"

"Yes, peaceful," John agreed. "We are peaceful. Uh. Anyone?"

"The Ewoks, in the trees of Endor", Teyla intoned, smiling fondly. "At heart, they are a very peaceful people, even though they fight like true warriors."

"God," Rodney muttered. "What have we done? We have completely corrupted the Pegasus."

"Lorion," the doorkeeper announced loudly, "following the voices on the wind."

"Yes, you're listening. We get it. Try Open sesame," Rodney said, turning to John.

"You just did, and it didn't work, obviously."

The doorkeeper's one visible eye darted left and right in the spyhole.

"Uh, the prince, fighting his way through the rose bushes?" John tried.

"What is it with you and princes?" Ronon asked. "This is better: Cunning Golok, his blood drenching the sand at the gates of Harlon."

"O-kay," John said. "Thanks, Ronon."

The doorkeeper was still unimpressed, though.

"Cher," Rodney muttered, annoyed, "at the gates of Graceland."

John elbowed him in the ribs. "You're not helping," he said, biting his lip in an effort not to laugh.

The eye in the spyhole blinked. Once, twice. "The Graced Land!" the doorkeeper shouted, sounding pleased. "The gates of the Graced Land open to those who seek friendship!"

There was some shuffling, then bolts were slid back, and the door opened to reveal a small, skinny, bald man, grinning up at John. He must have stood on some sort of aid to even reach the spyhole. John put on his best greet-the-locals smile and tried to act like he did this kind of thing every day, piece of cake – bald dwarfs, right, meet them around every corner in the Pegasus.

"Who is this Cher?" Teyla asked in a whisper. "I have never heard of him. Is he a holy figure among your people?"

Rodney stared at her for a moment. "She. She's a she. And parts of her are said to be over sixty years old."

"That sounds mystic," Ronon said, in a tone similar to the one he always used for 'meditation' – wearily suspicious.

"Very," Rodney said earnestly.

"Actually, not so much," John cut in. "Come on."

The bald dwarf led them through the door.

* * *

They left planet Darmok early in the morning with no ZPMs or new supplies to speak of, but with Ronon and Rodney thoroughly tanked. They kept hanging onto each other, singing 'Walking in Memphis' surprisingly in key. When Ronon botched the lyrics of the chorus for the fifth time, Teyla raised an inquiring eyebrow at John.

"Sorry," he said. "No stunning your teammates. Unless you're also prepared to carry them?"

She sighed and walked on.

The debriefing the next morning involved a lot of bitching and groaning (Rodney), some serious squinting (Ronon), and too many insightful questions (Elizabeth). So they went for some educational Star Trek and watched 'Darmok' on the Ancient beamer in common room three.

"The things you learn from TV," Elizabeth observed, halfway through.

"Tell me about it," Rodney and John said in unison.