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John avoided looking at his reflection in the glass of the door as he walked into rehearsal, still brushing the snow out of his hair. He knew he looked liked he had been attacked by a lawnmower, but that didn't mean he wanted to see it.
Elizabeth stood nearby at the piano with Dr. O'Neill and Dr. Jackson, smiling widely and presumably trying to talk them into something. Rodney was on the other side of the room next to the music cabinet, collating at lightening speed and snapping his fingers at Radek, who practically disappeared entirely into the cabinet every few seconds, looking for the next piece Rodney needed, his eyes and hair already getting a little wild.
No one else had shown up yet, but there were a few minutes left. John moved behind the first row of chairs and dropped his backpack next to a chair that was already half-buried in a familiar, gigantically long scarf and an orange fleece. He took a moment to appreciate the light streaming in the large picture windows before he started removing his own excess layers.
Teyla came in alone, and she and John shared a smile as she joined Elizabeth and the doctors at the piano. The humanities building had a connecting tunnel to the fine arts center, so sheF wasn't wrapped up like a mummy. The same went for Ronon, who entered a moment later with Laura. They were talking about the fireworks they'd seen at New Year's as Laura unwrapped herself and shook off the melting snow.
Finally, the new girl walked in. John couldn't actually see much of her- her parka was a few sizes too big and she had scarves wrapped around her head. Everyone else was busy, so he tried to remember her name as he walked up to her.
"Hey, Jennifer, right?"
"Right, Jennifer Keller." She had two scarves off and was going for the third. "I'm taking over for Katie Brown?"
"Sure. Welcome to the Atlantis Singers." She was petite, had her blonde hair pulled back in a messy bun, and looked a little lost, so he grinned and put out his hand. "I'm John, and I like football, ferris wheels and anything that goes faster than 200 miles an hour."
She raised an eyebrow as she took his hand. "Nice to meet you, John, but you haven't answered the sixty-four thousand dollar question."
"Baritone."
She laughed. "First alto. But I meant the other one."
"Math major." He grinned.
"Pre-med."
"Ah, life sciences. Well, don't take Rodney too seriously," John suggested, nodding companionably.
"Who?"
John pointed. "Rodney's the guy's section leader, and does some of our librarian work, and lots of other stuff. He's first tenor, and that's Radek, second tenor, he's a Czech exchange student." He turned to the piano and decided to finish the job. "Elizabeth's first soprano, and choir president. And Teyla's second soprano and your section leader. And then here's Ronon and Laura. Ronon's second bass, and Laura's your fellow alto."
Jennifer looked like she had caught about half of that. "Um, thanks." He grinned back and started to think about ways to introduce her to the zanier side of Atlantis.
"Okay, okay, for crying out loud, people, let's get started!" O'Neill's voice rang out, and the students all ran for the first row of chairs. Only Dr. Jackson wasn't at all flustered, standing at the piano with a cup of coffee cradled in his hands. John spared a moment to direct Jennifer between Teyla and Laura, and wound up being the last seated when he dropped between Ronon and Radek with a thud.
"Aww, what a gentleman. Sorry, John, it won't save you, you get to collect folders today. Ladies and gentlemen and not so much, we have a new member, Jennifer Keller, first alto. Welcome to Atlantis, Jennifer, take a bow."
O'Neill actually waited for Jennifer to stand and bow before continuing, and the choir gave a nice little round of golf claps. "All right, let's get started. Rodney?" Rodney popped up, grabbed the folders from the side table and started to hand them out with nervous energy.
While he distributed them, O'Neill kept talking. "Our high schools this term are Athos, Hoffan and Genii, again. And yes, before you ask, Hoffan's still going to need all the help it can get and the kids at Genii are still a handful. Athos is, of course, a thing of beauty and a joy forever; but Teyla, if you wear your varsity jacket there again this semester, I will take drastic action. I do not want to get accused of kidnapping a minor again." Teyla smirked a bit with her eyebrows as Rodney sat down again.
O'Neill waved a white and red score at them, and they opened their folders in a rush. "Let's start with this one, Feller From Fortune, for Athos. Most of this is in seven, and there are almost eighty meter changes, so we have to nail the rhythm before working on this with the kids. So, places!"
John noted Jennifer wasn't even a beat behind in snapping into position; sitting away from the seat back, feet flat on the floor, shoulders square, chest up and loose. "Altos, ready. Daniel, you with us?" Jackson nodded sharply from the piano bench, coffee seated precariously on a stack of scores on the bench next to him. O'Neill raised his hand, and John grinned as Jennifer and Laura, who hadn't actually spoken to each other yet, took a breath in perfect unison, and they were off into another semester.
It all fell apart thirty seconds later, of course. "Drinkin' wine and rum and-"
"HALT!" O'Neill could really sound like a drill sergeant when he wanted to, but John was glad to see Jennifer didn't startle. Two years in the CCC had apparently inured her to Hammond, and the student hadn't quite surpassed the master yet. "Laura, a little louder these first few times through, please, I'd like you to keep the women on beat with this piece. And let's drop the twang, ladies, it's the first day but that doesn't mean we can't get it right. From the top. Daniel?" And it started all over again.
John had finally woken up, smelled the coffee on Rodney's breath and dropped out of ROTC two months ago, and hadn't regretted it for a moment. He and Laura still went running together here and there- though lately, she'd started bringing that Evan guy from the art department along- and he knew he was still in excellent shape. Regardless, a good choir practice left him short of breath. Running and weights had rhythm to them, but O'Neill liked to check their attention and knowledge of the music by having them stop and start again sharply, and at unexpected bar numbers.
That also resulted in strange breathing patterns, which made certain their lungs were healthy. There was a rumor that Hammond had caught a member of the Cheyenne Chamber Choir smoking two years before. The rumor also included what had happened to the kid. O'Neill was younger and a lot more active than Hammond, so not even Ronon was willing to chance it.
When O'Neill got tired of conducting in seven, they switched to the other piece they were doing for Athos, an arrangement of a couple verses of "Jesu, Joy of Man's Desiring." It took a couple bars before they lost the bouncy rhythm from the Canadian folk song and dropped into the proper German chorale style, so the Bach sounded oddly peppy for a moment. John's knowledge of German was sketchy, but his pronunciation was good as long as he listened for Rodney and Radek, and if he got it once, he could do it again, no trouble. He'd have to ask Rodney about the weird grin he'd sent John's way when they hit the seventh line of the first verse; what did "Bräutigam" mean anyways?
It was a good practice, everyone was excited by the new pieces, settling back into old habits. Radek's accent was helpful for the Bach piece- his control was always perfect in English but other languages were harder for him, so he enjoyed German. Elizabeth only overstepped a cue once, and John barely had to strain to be heard over Ronon at all. Jennifer seemed to be settling in well, because though John had a little trouble hearing her at times when all eight of them were singing, he never heard her when he shouldn't. Her voice was a little breathy, but it seemed more dynamic than he'd expected, which was good. An octet really only needed two blending voices, and Laura and Radek were good at their job.
At the end of practice, while they caught their breath, O'Neill introduced the other pieces they'd be doing with the high school students that semester. One jazz, one gospel (which John really hoped O'Neill hadn't stolen from the gospel choir, Dr. Pophis was scary when he was being sanctimonious), and two short a cappella pieces, one in Hebrew. Their signature piece, as O'Neill insisted on calling the song they did each semester on their own, without tutoring the high school kids in it, wasn't ready. It was apparently going to be a little different, and Rodney wasn't done fiddling with it yet, so they'd see it later.
Finally, with a cheerful wave, O'Neill let them go and John started collecting the folders. Rodney and Radek went to clean up the music cabinet, which was still a wreck after earlier. Everyone else practically bolted for the door; CCC would start in ten minutes and the first day of the semester was always a draw for the choir nerds.
John moved fast and threw on his coat after he got the folders into their basket. "C'mon, Rodney, it's T's day!"
"You think I don't know that?" Rodney was half-ensconced in the cabinet, Radek occasionally handing him a score as Rodney tried to reorganize the whole thing in three minutes.
"The man's a genius for voices, Rodney. And he only does this twice a year. Let's go!"
"Look, John, I understand that you happen to think T is a superhero, or something, and I can acknowledge that he has a certain flair for setting up a choir. But this whole spectator thing that's started up is faintly creepy and also distracting- yes, yes, what?" Radek was tapping him hard on the shoulder with a score.
"Rodney, go. And stop complaining for once. I do not particularly enjoy T's display, you and John go and leave me and this poor, unfortunate cabinet alone, yes?" Radek gestured with a flourish at Rodney's attempt at reorganization, which at the moment looked like the result of a cyclone hitting a paper factory.
Rodney considered for a moment, until John threw the orange fleece at his head. He muttered a quick "Thanks," to Radek on his way to the door with John,
T, or Mr. Ealc, as only Dr. Hammond ever called him, was ostensibly the percussionist for Cheyenne Chamber Choir. He also did most of the corralling of the students for Hammond, and taught voice lessons for the more talented basses in CCC. If the CCC was a theater instead of a choir, T would have been the stage manager. John had worked with him the year before, and if Ronon had joined any choir before his senior year, T would have spotted him, too.
But he was famous for what he did the first day of each semester.
Choirs, good choirs, have two sets of seating assignments. For regular practice, they sit in parts: sopranos, altos, tenors and basses each together. For dress rehearsals and concerts, however, they stand mixed, no one standing next to someone of their own part. The members must be arranged so that the "color" voices, the people who will get solos and wedding gigs and the like, are balanced out by the blending voices. The blending voices never get solos, but a blending voice who values their role is a godsend to a director who knows what they're doing.
Hammond knew how to use them, and T was a walking legend for knowing how to arrange them. The job had to be done one person at a time, and for a choir as large as CCC it could take over an hour to do it well. T not only did it well, he changed it up each semester to suit the pieces they were doing.
John and Rodney got there a little late. T had already spread his voice lesson boys across the floor, a web to weave the other students into. He had them sing the first verse of "Silent Night" to make sure they were in the right places, and then started picking other members of the CCC out of the crowd.
John spotted a few people around who were clearly spectators. O'Neill and Jackson stood with Dr. Carter, the university's music librarian for the choirs and ensembles, who also kept the school's instruments in good order. Rodney worked with her a lot, and John would have been jealous of how brilliant he thought she was if not for the ready proof that he wasn't interested in women. Dr. Fraiser, CCC's accompanist, was also with them.
T had half the tenors slotted in, and ran them through a chorus of "A-a-a-men, a-a-a-men, a-a-men, a-men, a-men's" to be sure. The rest of the room remained dead silent. Several of the music majors had their eyes closed, trying to pick up the hows and whys.
There was a small group of ladder-climbers from the Rathe Chorus to one side, where John had found Ronon the semester before, after Ford had left Atlantis to return to Rathe. Ford didn't seem to be with the group, but that was no surprise- he'd dropped his musical ambitions after he realized what the caffeine pills were doing to his body. If John had realized earlier....
Rodney's hand slid into John's, and John looked back at him. Rodney was watching T again, but he squeezed John's hand once. He knew how much John beat himself up over not noticing Ford's problems last semester, and he could always seem to tell when John was about to head that way again.
John squeezed back. At least, in this crowd, they didn't have to worry about getting flak for it.
T decided to mix things up a little, and threw in a few altos and sopranos. Katie Brown waved cheerfully to John and Rodney as she walked to the spot T had pointed to. She had enjoyed being in Atlantis, especially as she almost never got solos or descants in CCC because she wasn't a music major. But the teaching weekends took up more time than she could spare, so she had gone back to the CCC at the semester. A third of the choir still stood to one side as T spent some extra time making sure the students in the mix were in the right places. He had two of his basses, Stackhouse and Markham, switch spots, and then had the whole group sing the chorus of "Ride the Chariot," a piece they'd done last semester.
Another group stood in a back corner, a bit separate from everyone else, John recognized two of them from Dr. Pophis's Gold Gospel Choir. Dr. Pophis was, of course, not present, though most of the rest of the music faculty was- he and T had had a nasty falling out a few years before when T had left the gospel choir for CCC. The bad blood between them hadn't faded yet. O'Neill's foster son, Scar, (who still hadn't managed to lose the nickname since the Lion King production), stood near the front of the group.
The silence had changed as T worked his way through the choir. Originally, it had felt like everyone was holding their breath, waiting for "it" to happen again. Waiting for the finished result. But now, everyone was so caught up in the process that the end was almost a surprise when it came. T slotted in the last alto, had the choir sing a verse of "Amazing Grace," moved two tenors and a second soprano, and he swept a large, formal bow to Dr. Hammond.
John thought it was a little weird, but he'd always done it, and John had never heard anyone comment on it. So he didn't either.
Had it been a football match, of course, the room would have erupted into cheers. Being full of music majors, there were a couple heartfelt sighs, and then the tension holding the crowd together as a single group broke, and non-CCC students slowly began to drift out. John and Rodney were among the last of the students to leave, and Rodney waved to Dr. Carter on the way out, and smirked when she nodded back.
The snow was just starting to fall again as they made their way back to their dorm. They walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes. Rodney, bundled in hat, fleece, and bulky mittens, was trying to adjust his gigantically long scarf as they walked and not having a lot of luck. John's hands were in his pockets, and he was talking himself into, and then back out of, trying to catch snowflakes on his tongue.
"You do that long enough, your face will freeze like that." Rodney said, without once glancing towards John's face. He always had shown a disturbing tendency towards telepathy when it came to John's more whimsical impulses.
"Gee, thanks for channeling my mom, there, McKay, 'ppreciate it."
"No problem." By this point, Rodney was practically strangling himself with the scarf. John told himself he was just acting in his own best interests- his future-make-out-sessions interests- when he stopped them both and batted Rodney's hands away. His own hands, in cheap, thin-knit, bulk-discount-store-purchased gloves, felt the chill as soon as he took them out of his pockets. But he adjusted Rodney's scarf anyways.
"You might have the scarf and an enormous brain, but you do know you aren't actually the Doctor, right?" John tucked the ends into Rodney's collar, and stuffed his own hands back into his pockets as they continued on their way.
"Spotted that I'm not a nine-hundred year old alien with a sonic screwdriver and a time-travelling blue box, have you? I always thought you were bright."
"Nah, you'll build the screwdriver one of these days." Rodney grinned at him, and then frowned.
"What, you don't think I could build a TARDIS? I could absolutely build a TARDIS!" His chin jutted out in a too-familiar gesture.
"No, you couldn't, Rodney," John grinned as Rodney started looking a little apoplectic, "you can't build a TARDIS- you grow them."
Rodney huffed a pleased little noise down into the folds of his scarf at his chin, then glanced over at John. "You know your hair looks like you've been attacked by a lawnmower, right?"
"You know I could throw you into that snowbank without breaking a sweat, right?" John grinned back. Rodney might be a little caustic here and there. But walking home with him, half-listening to the list all the reasons why death by pneumonia was particularly horrific, and the ways in which the fate of the world would be endangered by his (tragic, young) loss, was a pretty good way to end a day.