Fic: SGA: They Do Not Teach This Stuff At Med School, Checkmate 'verse
Fic: SGA: They Do Not Teach This Stuff At Med School
Series: Checkmate 'Verse AU
Paring: None mentioned in this chapter
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Cat!crack fic.
Summary: John drops in on Kate Heightmeyer.
Chronologically seventh in the Checkmate 'Verse series.
Teaser: Of course, there was a whole new dimension to John’s inability to express himself when he was turned into a cat and stuck that way for a month.
Unbeta'd.
Icon by the generous itsychick
John Sheppard knew the value of silence. The stubborn son of a taciturn father, he knew how to keep his peace and wait the other guy out.
Of course, sometimes it backfired. Kate Heightmeyer was totally wise to his whole technique of keeping his mouth shut. She wasn’t bad at it herself. They’d sit in her office, the breeze blowing through her billowy curtains, staring one another down until John blurted something or Kate asked a question he could answer.
There had been a couple of required post extra-crazy mission sessions where he stumbled in and stared at her, flat eyed and exhausted, in no shape to talk about anything.
"I'll make you a deal," she said, one time when he looked like he was going to keel over. "Stay here, take off your boots and relax, and we'll count it as a session." She walked to her large Athosian-made basket-chest, took out a soft green blanket and placed it on the coffee table in front of him. Gathering her notes, she retreated to the far end of her office, where she stayed until the hour was up.
He had slept. He thanked her awkwardly for it, but the gratitude in his eyes had been very eloquent. She was honored he could relax there. When she thought it appropriate, she'd take the blanket out and withdraw. They never talked about it again.
Eventually, they were able to establish a connection strong enough that he could walk in, announce a topic that was bothering him, and she’d ask questions or make observations that, most of the time, seemed to help. Not that these sessions were easy - John Sheppard would probably never find it easy to admit his feelings, repression was too much of a habit - but he had joked with her once that the session had “been almost as good as a nap.”
Of course, there was a whole new dimension to John’s inability to express himself when he was turned into a cat and stuck that way for a month.
John strolled into Kate’s office on his third day as a cat and jumped up on the sofa. The blanket he had used several times was sitting on Kate’s coffee table, folded into a pad. She’d taken it out just in case, on the off chance it held enough of his scent to be comforting.
“Hello, John,” she said, pleased. “I was wondering when you’d stop by.”
He twitched his ears at her and licked his paw. She smiled to reassure him. Paw-licking was normally a sign of nervousness.
Kate only let the silence stretch a minute before she opened her desk drawer and drew out what she'd prepared before she gathered her pad and walked to her customary chair. She sat as if it were just another session and took in his demeanor and body language.
“I’ve never seen a cat sit so straight in my life.”
John licked his paw five times rapidly and resumed his perfectly contained stance.
“It’s not like it’s going to make you any taller. Or look less like a cat. You do, however, look very dignified.”
The tip of his tail started to twitch. She raised her hands, palms up.
“I’m just reminding you that you can be comfortable in here.”
John made sort of a grumbling squeak, but stood up and turned around a few times, sniffing the cushions delicately. He tucked his paws underneath his chest and settled into the corner of the sofa, looking faintly embarrassed.
Kate continued to smile pleasantly.
“Meer!” John complained, giving her a very level look.
“Are you embarrassed to be a cat?”
John put his head down on the couch and sighed hugely, closing his eyes as if to shut out the outrageous question.
“John.”
He opened his eyes and looked at her.
“From what I understand of the Gatan culture, this form is representative of a part of your spirit or psyche.”
He glared at her. The tip of his tail twitched in agitation.
“You know what I think?”
His ears twitched.
“I think you should enjoy it.”
John shifted and raised his head, stretching his paws out in front of him in a Sphinx-like position. He looked alert, interested and a little bit skeptical.
“First of all? Not a danger to yourself or others, unlike the Iratus incident. Nor is there any loss of your self. From every test we have performed, you are John Sheppard. You just happen to be in a different form than usual, and that form has many of the same physical talents you do. But now, you have enhanced vision, hearing and smell, the reflexes, the speed, heck, the extra flexibility; it seems like you’d really love that. “
John licked his lips and shifted his paws a few times, obviously thinking that over. He finally looked up at her and said with a long note of complaint, “Mrrrrrrrrowr.”
“Flying?”
“Mow.”
“Flying is your passion, yes. It is a very large part of you, but I think that this form is more in line with your personality. You aren’t just a flyer, which is, for a human, as much of an intellectual pursuit as a matter of talent and inclination. And you are not as fragile as a bird. You're tough and your bones are not hollow. You are a loner with the charisma to lead, you’re a natural athlete and you’re a fighter with incredible tactical instincts.” She raised an eyebrow. “And you always seem to land on your feet.
John twitched his ears at her in what she was beginning to believe was his version of an eyeroll. Then he rested his head on his paws. He sighed.
“You have a vacation from your duties, though I hear that you’ve been accompanying Lorne on rounds, which is entirely in-line with a cat’s territorial nature. You don’t have to be pleasant and sociable if you don’t wish to - you’re a cat! And no one will be bothered if you hang around the people you trust most.”
He thumped his tail on the sofa angrily, twice.
“Yes, I know that you decided not to pursue that, for very understandable reasons. I would like to suggest that this is an opportunity for you to see your friends and many other things from an incredibly different perspective. Don’t cheat yourself of that. Give it some thought.”
John licked his right paw a few times, the nervous tic slowing into grooming. He rubbed his ear in a gesture that was very much like when he’d scratch the back of his head. Then, he yawned.
“There’s a really great patch of sun by the second window,” Kate offered, allowing him to retreat into his thoughts. She’d given him enough food for thought without pushing.
John rose and jumped across to the coffee table, landing on the blanket Kate had set out. He padded across it until he stood in front of her. He looked at her straight in the eye for a few long seconds, then leaned forward and bumped her knee with his head, purring.
It was the most eloquent thanks from she'd received from a client and the most direct communication she’d ever had from Sheppard.
“You’re welcome, Colonel. May I?” Kate reached her hand out tentatively.
John sat and bowed his head. She stroked his ears and his neck softly twice. He glanced up at her with what she could swear was a bit of the Sheppard mischievous charm. He was laughing at her. She made an apologetic face.
“Hey,” Kate grinned sheepishly. “I miss my cat, so, um. Thanks.” She slid her professional smile back on. “I'm putting this by the window. My next appointment isn’t until after lunch.” She set a small, handmade ball on the edge of the coffee table as she stood to retrieve the blanket. The bells inside it jingled.
“I think I’m going to get a cup of coffee. Do you need anything? Water?”
John, who was staring at the ball, looked up at her absently. “Maa,” he said dismissively.
“Okay,” Kate replied. “I’ll slip in the back way when I come back, so I won't disturb you.
Kate put her notes away and put the blanket by the window, which she opened slightly so John could sniff the ocean air. Her Minka - back on Earth - had enjoyed just such a spot in her house.
She stood outside the door for a few long moments afterwards, listening. Very faintly, she could hear the jingle of tiny bells and later, longer spaces between the jingles and running feet. She grinned a completely unprofessional grin and decided she deserved a doughnut. In fact, she deserved a chocolate-glazed one. With sprinkles.
Series: Checkmate 'Verse AU
Paring: None mentioned in this chapter
Spoilers: None
Warnings: Cat!crack fic.
Summary: John drops in on Kate Heightmeyer.
Chronologically seventh in the Checkmate 'Verse series.
Teaser: Of course, there was a whole new dimension to John’s inability to express himself when he was turned into a cat and stuck that way for a month.
Unbeta'd.
Icon by the generous itsychick
John Sheppard knew the value of silence. The stubborn son of a taciturn father, he knew how to keep his peace and wait the other guy out.
Of course, sometimes it backfired. Kate Heightmeyer was totally wise to his whole technique of keeping his mouth shut. She wasn’t bad at it herself. They’d sit in her office, the breeze blowing through her billowy curtains, staring one another down until John blurted something or Kate asked a question he could answer.
There had been a couple of required post extra-crazy mission sessions where he stumbled in and stared at her, flat eyed and exhausted, in no shape to talk about anything.
"I'll make you a deal," she said, one time when he looked like he was going to keel over. "Stay here, take off your boots and relax, and we'll count it as a session." She walked to her large Athosian-made basket-chest, took out a soft green blanket and placed it on the coffee table in front of him. Gathering her notes, she retreated to the far end of her office, where she stayed until the hour was up.
He had slept. He thanked her awkwardly for it, but the gratitude in his eyes had been very eloquent. She was honored he could relax there. When she thought it appropriate, she'd take the blanket out and withdraw. They never talked about it again.
Eventually, they were able to establish a connection strong enough that he could walk in, announce a topic that was bothering him, and she’d ask questions or make observations that, most of the time, seemed to help. Not that these sessions were easy - John Sheppard would probably never find it easy to admit his feelings, repression was too much of a habit - but he had joked with her once that the session had “been almost as good as a nap.”
Of course, there was a whole new dimension to John’s inability to express himself when he was turned into a cat and stuck that way for a month.
John strolled into Kate’s office on his third day as a cat and jumped up on the sofa. The blanket he had used several times was sitting on Kate’s coffee table, folded into a pad. She’d taken it out just in case, on the off chance it held enough of his scent to be comforting.
“Hello, John,” she said, pleased. “I was wondering when you’d stop by.”
He twitched his ears at her and licked his paw. She smiled to reassure him. Paw-licking was normally a sign of nervousness.
Kate only let the silence stretch a minute before she opened her desk drawer and drew out what she'd prepared before she gathered her pad and walked to her customary chair. She sat as if it were just another session and took in his demeanor and body language.
“I’ve never seen a cat sit so straight in my life.”
John licked his paw five times rapidly and resumed his perfectly contained stance.
“It’s not like it’s going to make you any taller. Or look less like a cat. You do, however, look very dignified.”
The tip of his tail started to twitch. She raised her hands, palms up.
“I’m just reminding you that you can be comfortable in here.”
John made sort of a grumbling squeak, but stood up and turned around a few times, sniffing the cushions delicately. He tucked his paws underneath his chest and settled into the corner of the sofa, looking faintly embarrassed.
Kate continued to smile pleasantly.
“Meer!” John complained, giving her a very level look.
“Are you embarrassed to be a cat?”
John put his head down on the couch and sighed hugely, closing his eyes as if to shut out the outrageous question.
“John.”
He opened his eyes and looked at her.
“From what I understand of the Gatan culture, this form is representative of a part of your spirit or psyche.”
He glared at her. The tip of his tail twitched in agitation.
“You know what I think?”
His ears twitched.
“I think you should enjoy it.”
John shifted and raised his head, stretching his paws out in front of him in a Sphinx-like position. He looked alert, interested and a little bit skeptical.
“First of all? Not a danger to yourself or others, unlike the Iratus incident. Nor is there any loss of your self. From every test we have performed, you are John Sheppard. You just happen to be in a different form than usual, and that form has many of the same physical talents you do. But now, you have enhanced vision, hearing and smell, the reflexes, the speed, heck, the extra flexibility; it seems like you’d really love that. “
John licked his lips and shifted his paws a few times, obviously thinking that over. He finally looked up at her and said with a long note of complaint, “Mrrrrrrrrowr.”
“Flying?”
“Mow.”
“Flying is your passion, yes. It is a very large part of you, but I think that this form is more in line with your personality. You aren’t just a flyer, which is, for a human, as much of an intellectual pursuit as a matter of talent and inclination. And you are not as fragile as a bird. You're tough and your bones are not hollow. You are a loner with the charisma to lead, you’re a natural athlete and you’re a fighter with incredible tactical instincts.” She raised an eyebrow. “And you always seem to land on your feet.
John twitched his ears at her in what she was beginning to believe was his version of an eyeroll. Then he rested his head on his paws. He sighed.
“You have a vacation from your duties, though I hear that you’ve been accompanying Lorne on rounds, which is entirely in-line with a cat’s territorial nature. You don’t have to be pleasant and sociable if you don’t wish to - you’re a cat! And no one will be bothered if you hang around the people you trust most.”
He thumped his tail on the sofa angrily, twice.
“Yes, I know that you decided not to pursue that, for very understandable reasons. I would like to suggest that this is an opportunity for you to see your friends and many other things from an incredibly different perspective. Don’t cheat yourself of that. Give it some thought.”
John licked his right paw a few times, the nervous tic slowing into grooming. He rubbed his ear in a gesture that was very much like when he’d scratch the back of his head. Then, he yawned.
“There’s a really great patch of sun by the second window,” Kate offered, allowing him to retreat into his thoughts. She’d given him enough food for thought without pushing.
John rose and jumped across to the coffee table, landing on the blanket Kate had set out. He padded across it until he stood in front of her. He looked at her straight in the eye for a few long seconds, then leaned forward and bumped her knee with his head, purring.
It was the most eloquent thanks from she'd received from a client and the most direct communication she’d ever had from Sheppard.
“You’re welcome, Colonel. May I?” Kate reached her hand out tentatively.
John sat and bowed his head. She stroked his ears and his neck softly twice. He glanced up at her with what she could swear was a bit of the Sheppard mischievous charm. He was laughing at her. She made an apologetic face.
“Hey,” Kate grinned sheepishly. “I miss my cat, so, um. Thanks.” She slid her professional smile back on. “I'm putting this by the window. My next appointment isn’t until after lunch.” She set a small, handmade ball on the edge of the coffee table as she stood to retrieve the blanket. The bells inside it jingled.
“I think I’m going to get a cup of coffee. Do you need anything? Water?”
John, who was staring at the ball, looked up at her absently. “Maa,” he said dismissively.
“Okay,” Kate replied. “I’ll slip in the back way when I come back, so I won't disturb you.
Kate put her notes away and put the blanket by the window, which she opened slightly so John could sniff the ocean air. Her Minka - back on Earth - had enjoyed just such a spot in her house.
She stood outside the door for a few long moments afterwards, listening. Very faintly, she could hear the jingle of tiny bells and later, longer spaces between the jingles and running feet. She grinned a completely unprofessional grin and decided she deserved a doughnut. In fact, she deserved a chocolate-glazed one. With sprinkles.