Returning Rant and Ficamnesty
Spoilers for The Return, Part II and ranting that you are probably better off avoiding.
I finally watched The Return, Part II. Now last September, when I watched The Return, Part I, I had a bit of a rant. Unfortunately, the urge to rant has returned in the wake of the Return, Part II. Seriously, people. I can't even watch Jack anymore. He's now some sad comic relief that isn't so much funny as maddening. (If you don't really feel like coming back and giving it your all, RDA, then please, don't bother. I can get my dose of Jack in fic and reruns, thank you very much.) Yes, there were good moments. Like mostly when he was holding his breath and was unable to say stupid things (is this what SG1 would have been like if RDA actually read scripts? Thank god for improvising.) True, there was the wetness factor, which almost distracted me enough, but not quite. And yes, the Carter line and his reaction to Elizabeth's hug were great fun. But I'm still grumpy. Now I'm mostly unspoiled for the upcoming movies, but I feel great trepidation if RDA is going to be in any of them. But maybe a movie would be different. Maybe not. *sigh*
But if you loved this ep and feel the need to defend it or Jack, please do. I might just need my view rewired.
And one more thing before I troll off into the night...
holdouttrout exposed me to the great idea of ficamnesty. Here is the fic I started writing right after my rant in September. I doubt I will ever finish it at this point. I was going to write my own conclusion to the episode, but I have this weird thing that once I have seen how an episode works out, I can no longer think of it in any other way. Not sure that makes sense. But that is how my stupid brain works. So rather than deleting it, I will just post it here in a fit of ficamnesty.
Renegade
With one hand, Jack loosened his tie, whipping it up and over his head, throwing it carelessly to the ground. Woolsey was a few steps behind him, talking a mile a minute about protocol and emergency plans. Jack had half a mind to tell him to shut the hell up, but really, under the thunderous bombardment of the city, one sycophant’s wheedling voice was hardly going to get them discovered any more quickly.
With a bit more roughness than necessary, Jack grabbed the arm of the blond Ancient who was sitting torpidly on the floor and heaved her to her feet, shoving her in front of him.
“Time to get out of here,” he growled, propelling her forward.
She looked dazedly back at him, though whether from her head wound or simply her shock that their superior Ancient defensives had been so easily breeched, Jack didn’t know nor care.
They hurried out of the main control room in no particular direction, stepping over bodies as they went.
The more things change, the more they stay the god damned same, Jack mused. Cliché, but annoyingly accurate at the moment. The superior aliens were pompously clueless, the politicians numbingly cowardly and Jack was still the only one with half a clue as to what to do.
Jack dropped his jacket in the hallway and once again wished that he hadn’t overridden his instincts in coming armed to Atlantis. He’d grown too damn soft behind that stupid desk of his.
“Is there a weapons locker or something nearby?” Jack asked the woman still hobbling far too slowly in front of him.
She didn’t reply, dropping to her knees by a body. “Antaeus!”
Jack sighed, but paused to drop his hand to the man’s throat, wasting precious moments confirming what was painfully obvious.
“He’s dead,” Jack stated. “I’m sorry, I really am, but we have to keep moving and find some weapons if you don’t want to join him!”
Her head snapped up, eyes blazing and for a moment, Jack thought she might actually strike him. But then she looked away, resting one hand on the dead man’s face before pushing firmly to her feet.
“Conventional weapons won’t affect them,” she said, striding down the nearest hallway.
“How did I know you were going to say that,” Jack groused, winding his way after her.
“Surely the Daedalus is on its way here already,” Woolsey said, still jumping at every sound.
“Yeah,” Jack agreed absently. Why exactly did all these hallways all have to look the same?
Woolsey breathed a sigh of relief. “At least there’s that.”
Jack paused at a doorway, looking both ways, but the Ancient woman just waved him into another hall.
“On their way in the sense that when they get here they will release a nuclear bomb,” Jack clarified.
“What?” Woolsey screeched, his glasses slipping precariously down his nose. “What is it with you people and blowing the hell out of things with your people still on them?”
“They don’t know that we are alive, Woolsey. This is the standing course of action.”
“And whose idiot idea is that?”
Jack stopped abruptly, almost causing Woolsey to slam into him. He leaned closer into the politician and smiled broadly at him. “Mine.”
“Oh,” Woolsey said, face paling slightly. “Okay then. You were saying something about weapons?”
Maybe Woolsey had some potential after all.
I finally watched The Return, Part II. Now last September, when I watched The Return, Part I, I had a bit of a rant. Unfortunately, the urge to rant has returned in the wake of the Return, Part II. Seriously, people. I can't even watch Jack anymore. He's now some sad comic relief that isn't so much funny as maddening. (If you don't really feel like coming back and giving it your all, RDA, then please, don't bother. I can get my dose of Jack in fic and reruns, thank you very much.) Yes, there were good moments. Like mostly when he was holding his breath and was unable to say stupid things (is this what SG1 would have been like if RDA actually read scripts? Thank god for improvising.) True, there was the wetness factor, which almost distracted me enough, but not quite. And yes, the Carter line and his reaction to Elizabeth's hug were great fun. But I'm still grumpy. Now I'm mostly unspoiled for the upcoming movies, but I feel great trepidation if RDA is going to be in any of them. But maybe a movie would be different. Maybe not. *sigh*
But if you loved this ep and feel the need to defend it or Jack, please do. I might just need my view rewired.
And one more thing before I troll off into the night...
holdouttrout exposed me to the great idea of ficamnesty. Here is the fic I started writing right after my rant in September. I doubt I will ever finish it at this point. I was going to write my own conclusion to the episode, but I have this weird thing that once I have seen how an episode works out, I can no longer think of it in any other way. Not sure that makes sense. But that is how my stupid brain works. So rather than deleting it, I will just post it here in a fit of ficamnesty.
Renegade
With one hand, Jack loosened his tie, whipping it up and over his head, throwing it carelessly to the ground. Woolsey was a few steps behind him, talking a mile a minute about protocol and emergency plans. Jack had half a mind to tell him to shut the hell up, but really, under the thunderous bombardment of the city, one sycophant’s wheedling voice was hardly going to get them discovered any more quickly.
With a bit more roughness than necessary, Jack grabbed the arm of the blond Ancient who was sitting torpidly on the floor and heaved her to her feet, shoving her in front of him.
“Time to get out of here,” he growled, propelling her forward.
She looked dazedly back at him, though whether from her head wound or simply her shock that their superior Ancient defensives had been so easily breeched, Jack didn’t know nor care.
They hurried out of the main control room in no particular direction, stepping over bodies as they went.
The more things change, the more they stay the god damned same, Jack mused. Cliché, but annoyingly accurate at the moment. The superior aliens were pompously clueless, the politicians numbingly cowardly and Jack was still the only one with half a clue as to what to do.
Jack dropped his jacket in the hallway and once again wished that he hadn’t overridden his instincts in coming armed to Atlantis. He’d grown too damn soft behind that stupid desk of his.
“Is there a weapons locker or something nearby?” Jack asked the woman still hobbling far too slowly in front of him.
She didn’t reply, dropping to her knees by a body. “Antaeus!”
Jack sighed, but paused to drop his hand to the man’s throat, wasting precious moments confirming what was painfully obvious.
“He’s dead,” Jack stated. “I’m sorry, I really am, but we have to keep moving and find some weapons if you don’t want to join him!”
Her head snapped up, eyes blazing and for a moment, Jack thought she might actually strike him. But then she looked away, resting one hand on the dead man’s face before pushing firmly to her feet.
“Conventional weapons won’t affect them,” she said, striding down the nearest hallway.
“How did I know you were going to say that,” Jack groused, winding his way after her.
“Surely the Daedalus is on its way here already,” Woolsey said, still jumping at every sound.
“Yeah,” Jack agreed absently. Why exactly did all these hallways all have to look the same?
Woolsey breathed a sigh of relief. “At least there’s that.”
Jack paused at a doorway, looking both ways, but the Ancient woman just waved him into another hall.
“On their way in the sense that when they get here they will release a nuclear bomb,” Jack clarified.
“What?” Woolsey screeched, his glasses slipping precariously down his nose. “What is it with you people and blowing the hell out of things with your people still on them?”
“They don’t know that we are alive, Woolsey. This is the standing course of action.”
“And whose idiot idea is that?”
Jack stopped abruptly, almost causing Woolsey to slam into him. He leaned closer into the politician and smiled broadly at him. “Mine.”
“Oh,” Woolsey said, face paling slightly. “Okay then. You were saying something about weapons?”
Maybe Woolsey had some potential after all.