Fic: The Blameless And The Wicked (SGA - John-centric, NC-17)
Title: The Blameless And The Wicked
Author: randomeliza
Fandom: SGA
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 1000
A/N: For the picfor1000 challenge, for this picture. Thanks to siriaeve for the beta and reassurance.
Summary: It is all the same; that is why I say, 'He destroys both the blameless and the wicked.' When a scourge brings sudden death, he mocks the despair of the innocent. When a land falls into the hands of the wicked, he blindfolds its judges. If not he, then who is it?
Mushroom cloud on the horizon, jutting up over the fields like a tree reaching for the sun. Mushroom cloud, and people screaming, and Kolya: "You have so much to atone for, John Sheppard. Make your peace with whatever gods people like you pray to."
He knows Rodney is dead, and that the God his father believed in but lost all faith in is worth about as much as the gun in his hand. If Rodney is dead, John is dead. If Rodney isn't alive, John's life is worth nothing.
Rodney, weeks ago: "They are just - too close to building something that could kill us all, with too much knowledge and too little skill."
Rodney, days ago: "They can't find me, Sheppard. I'm not like you, I can't… You have to keep them away from me."
Kolya, drawing his knife: "Shall I tell you how he screamed, Sheppard? How he gave you up, how quickly he agreed to help when we explained what we would do to him?"
Another cloud, this time to the east: John feels cold, all over, like there isn't fire and screaming and blood and the smell of scorched earth all around him. He closes his eyes and wishes very firmly to die.
---
The ferris wheel spins him up, up, and he reaches his hands toward the sky. It is night, there are stars above him, stars and the moon and he can pretend so easily that he's flying. His mouth tastes like cotton candy; his tongue is painted blue, like slushies and sugar and everything wonderful, and he sticks it out as he laughs. It is the Fourth of July.
His brother, yelling in his ear: "Nothing happens when you stick your hands up, dummy! It's not a roller coaster!"
"Ferris wheels are better than roller coasters," he shouts, punching his brother in the side; he watches the world rise and fall, steady.
Sparks explode in the sky above him, giant red bouquets sprouting from the roof of the school.
His brother: "The school's gonna explode, and then we'll never have to go back!"
Freedom. The sky above him, his feet dangling in the air, and endless Georgia summer. John Sheppard is glad to be alive.
---
The light turns yellow. It's the last thing he remembers clearly, the last sane thing, before - crunch of metal, smell of gasoline, the spin of the car that is nothing at all like a ferris wheel, the sick snap of his mother's bones, and the crash of the glass as his brother goes through it.
Another crunch, as they're coming to a stop, and then a whoosh like drawn-in breath. There is fire, and he can see clearly. The windshield is red, what's left of it, and there are two cars burning - he can see the flames curling into the sky, though he can barely see over the front seat.
Now he hears sirens, coming out of the dark, and he starts to cry. He wants to wake up. He prays to Jesus, who his daddy and the Bible say loves him so, for this all to be a dream.
A voice from the darkness: "There's a kid in here - I think he's alive!"
A voice, scared and sad: "God, his mother is -"
A voice from the fire: "There's another kid over here - somebody help me!"
John thinks he's going to wake up, but morning comes and he never does.
---
Jenny is above him, long red hair falling around his face as she breathes into his mouth. He wants her so badly he can't think, but he doesn't really have to. She's taking charge, taking him in, and he doesn't know how he'll make it good for her when he can't find a rhythm or do anything but cant his hips up, shove into that tight wet heaven and -
Jenny, softly: "John, just - wait -"
His own voice, somewhere beyond the pounding of blood in his ears: "Jesus God - I'm trying to - Jenny -"
She's around him, all around him, hair and arms and mouth and legs and pussy, pulling him in until he can't get deeper; sparks shoot behind his eyes, red as Jenny's hair. He is coming, and nothing in this world ever felt so good. He's pretty sure he loves her.
Jenny, sighing into his ear: "We can try that again, if you want. Next time it will last a bit longer."
Her hair falls across his mouth. He touches his tongue to it, wonders what the rest of her would feel like against his lips. She tastes like fire, he thinks, but it could be his imagination.
---
He's hit - his plane falls like a rock, and then he's ejecting. Fires burn on the ground below him, rockets aim for the planes above him, and he feels so small.
Falling back into the world is nothing at all like a ferris wheel and nothing at all like a car crash, and somewhere in between the two. John waits, because he has no choice; he watches the desert burn below him as he falls. The mortars are loud whether they find their target or not, and he remembers screams and warmth and voices in the dark.
---
The city is under attack, but the shield is holding. He doesn’t know for how long. He thinks Rodney does, which is why Rodney is more scared than anyone else. The Darts keep coming, and their sorties burst on the shield and make it sparkle.
Red and gold and orange and silver, metal and fire, and the reflection of it all on the dark water, Atlantis's steadfast companion.
Rodney, as John looks up and grips the railing: "It shouldn't be pretty."
---
Mushroom clouds, closer and closer still. Kolya's voice in his ear louder than the bombs: "McKay didn't die well, Sheppard, and neither will you."
Kolya's eyes are night-black and John can see the bombs in them, closer still, and watch the fire rain down. John dies with his eyes open.
Author: randomeliza
Fandom: SGA
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 1000
A/N: For the picfor1000 challenge, for this picture. Thanks to siriaeve for the beta and reassurance.
Summary: It is all the same; that is why I say, 'He destroys both the blameless and the wicked.' When a scourge brings sudden death, he mocks the despair of the innocent. When a land falls into the hands of the wicked, he blindfolds its judges. If not he, then who is it?
Mushroom cloud on the horizon, jutting up over the fields like a tree reaching for the sun. Mushroom cloud, and people screaming, and Kolya: "You have so much to atone for, John Sheppard. Make your peace with whatever gods people like you pray to."
He knows Rodney is dead, and that the God his father believed in but lost all faith in is worth about as much as the gun in his hand. If Rodney is dead, John is dead. If Rodney isn't alive, John's life is worth nothing.
Rodney, weeks ago: "They are just - too close to building something that could kill us all, with too much knowledge and too little skill."
Rodney, days ago: "They can't find me, Sheppard. I'm not like you, I can't… You have to keep them away from me."
Kolya, drawing his knife: "Shall I tell you how he screamed, Sheppard? How he gave you up, how quickly he agreed to help when we explained what we would do to him?"
Another cloud, this time to the east: John feels cold, all over, like there isn't fire and screaming and blood and the smell of scorched earth all around him. He closes his eyes and wishes very firmly to die.
---
The ferris wheel spins him up, up, and he reaches his hands toward the sky. It is night, there are stars above him, stars and the moon and he can pretend so easily that he's flying. His mouth tastes like cotton candy; his tongue is painted blue, like slushies and sugar and everything wonderful, and he sticks it out as he laughs. It is the Fourth of July.
His brother, yelling in his ear: "Nothing happens when you stick your hands up, dummy! It's not a roller coaster!"
"Ferris wheels are better than roller coasters," he shouts, punching his brother in the side; he watches the world rise and fall, steady.
Sparks explode in the sky above him, giant red bouquets sprouting from the roof of the school.
His brother: "The school's gonna explode, and then we'll never have to go back!"
Freedom. The sky above him, his feet dangling in the air, and endless Georgia summer. John Sheppard is glad to be alive.
---
The light turns yellow. It's the last thing he remembers clearly, the last sane thing, before - crunch of metal, smell of gasoline, the spin of the car that is nothing at all like a ferris wheel, the sick snap of his mother's bones, and the crash of the glass as his brother goes through it.
Another crunch, as they're coming to a stop, and then a whoosh like drawn-in breath. There is fire, and he can see clearly. The windshield is red, what's left of it, and there are two cars burning - he can see the flames curling into the sky, though he can barely see over the front seat.
Now he hears sirens, coming out of the dark, and he starts to cry. He wants to wake up. He prays to Jesus, who his daddy and the Bible say loves him so, for this all to be a dream.
A voice from the darkness: "There's a kid in here - I think he's alive!"
A voice, scared and sad: "God, his mother is -"
A voice from the fire: "There's another kid over here - somebody help me!"
John thinks he's going to wake up, but morning comes and he never does.
---
Jenny is above him, long red hair falling around his face as she breathes into his mouth. He wants her so badly he can't think, but he doesn't really have to. She's taking charge, taking him in, and he doesn't know how he'll make it good for her when he can't find a rhythm or do anything but cant his hips up, shove into that tight wet heaven and -
Jenny, softly: "John, just - wait -"
His own voice, somewhere beyond the pounding of blood in his ears: "Jesus God - I'm trying to - Jenny -"
She's around him, all around him, hair and arms and mouth and legs and pussy, pulling him in until he can't get deeper; sparks shoot behind his eyes, red as Jenny's hair. He is coming, and nothing in this world ever felt so good. He's pretty sure he loves her.
Jenny, sighing into his ear: "We can try that again, if you want. Next time it will last a bit longer."
Her hair falls across his mouth. He touches his tongue to it, wonders what the rest of her would feel like against his lips. She tastes like fire, he thinks, but it could be his imagination.
---
He's hit - his plane falls like a rock, and then he's ejecting. Fires burn on the ground below him, rockets aim for the planes above him, and he feels so small.
Falling back into the world is nothing at all like a ferris wheel and nothing at all like a car crash, and somewhere in between the two. John waits, because he has no choice; he watches the desert burn below him as he falls. The mortars are loud whether they find their target or not, and he remembers screams and warmth and voices in the dark.
---
The city is under attack, but the shield is holding. He doesn’t know for how long. He thinks Rodney does, which is why Rodney is more scared than anyone else. The Darts keep coming, and their sorties burst on the shield and make it sparkle.
Red and gold and orange and silver, metal and fire, and the reflection of it all on the dark water, Atlantis's steadfast companion.
Rodney, as John looks up and grips the railing: "It shouldn't be pretty."
---
Mushroom clouds, closer and closer still. Kolya's voice in his ear louder than the bombs: "McKay didn't die well, Sheppard, and neither will you."
Kolya's eyes are night-black and John can see the bombs in them, closer still, and watch the fire rain down. John dies with his eyes open.