stargateficrec | Cheyenne Noir (by Shippenstand) (Teen)

Show: SGA

Rec Category: Goa'uld
Characters: Rodney McKay/John Sheppard
Categories: slash
Warnings: No major ones except obviously it's a murder mystery, and the usual implications of this rec category.
Author on LJ:

shippenstand
Author's Website: See the AO3
Link: Cheyenne Noir on AO3

Why This Must Be Read: This is a relatively new longfic from the SGA Reversebang, and it's such a great and gripping read. Okay, maybe me including it in this rec category is a tiny spoiler, but no matter, as the story's full of plot and has really excellent characterisations. It's from Vegas!Sheppard's POV and has something of a noir quality, as the title suggests. Highly recommended for long plotty goodness.

“How do aliens infiltrate?” John put on his best innocent and confused expression. “Don’t they have, like, tentacles, or gray skin?”

McKay looked at him, and twisted his mouth. “Ha, ha. The Goa’uld are parasites. Symbiotes, according to the xenobiologists, but if they take over the host, I call them parasites.” McKay paused, and looked out the window. John saw a muscle in his jaw bunch, but then McKay went on. “They look a bit like snakes, and they can take over the nervous system. They completely control the host. They leave behind traces of an element called naquadah. I was looking for that in the airport.”

“They walk among us? Like the movie?”

“Actually, yes.”

“So if you can find them with that doohickey—“

“Doohickey?” McKay interrupted. “It’s a highly sophisticated sensor.”

“Whatever,” John said, before McKay could work himself up. “If you can detect this naquadah stuff, what’s the problem?”

McKay took a breath. “The Goa’uld normally have naquadah in their blood so that they can control their technology, no matter what host they have. One of the Goa’uld has managed to create clones without it. If they don’t need to control the technology because their job is infiltration, then we can’t detect them without a medical exam.” McKay looked out the window again, the muscle in his jaw bunching. This was personal for him. John noticed McKay fingering the wedding ring.

“And you need me why?”

McKay turned away from the window to look at John. “We think we found technology in Atlantis that can be modified to detect them, but it requires the possession of the ATA gene. It literally means Ancient Technology Activating gene. It’s fairly rare. You have it, naturally, in spades.”

“So I’m part alien?” That was weird. “I can’t be the only one.”

“No, not alien and not the only one. And we’ve made an artificial gene therapy that takes with a subset of people. It worked for me, but the artificial gene isn’t as good as the natural one, and some things won’t operate without a high expression level. Which you have.”

“So I’m an alien on switch?”

“You’re not an alien, and yes, at least at first.”

“And in return you’ll help me catch a serial killer before he gets to me?”