Fic: You can stand with us 1/?
Author: Flaim aka Darkfalconheart
Story: You can stand with us. (1/?)
Pairing: nothing as of yet.
Summary: Sequel to "You can run with us" Three months after returning to Atlantis, John is still struggling with the changes his time as a Runner wrought on him and danger is always only one planet away.
Rating: for this chapter: 13 , may be higher in later chapters
Warnings: some violence
Status: WIP
Spoilers: Up to ‘The lost tribe’.
Wordcount: ca.2900
You can stand with us
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, names or other various parts of the SG/SGA universe and all rights are with their respective owners. This is a work of non-profit fanfiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Author’s note: This is the sequel to “You can run with us”, and it is advisable to read the story before this one, or it will be hard to understand what happened. You can run with us was written before the fifth season was finished and follows canon events until about “The lost tribe” but is more or les AU for all intends and purposes.
While I will try to keep up with updating the story regularly, I doubt I will be able to write it in the same pace I did “You can run with us” and be it only because I RL demands on my time have increased drastically since then.
Prologue - Of the true blood
No one lives forever
All that really matters
Find the one
(Blind Guardian: Sacred)
John could not help it, he was tense when he stepped out of the gate. It wasn’t the tense, ever watchful reaction he had retained during his time as a Runner, but nervousness that he couldn’t fight off. In the three months since his return to Atlantis he had never ever felt nervous when passing through the gate, at least not when he was able to get moving once he arrived on the other side. But this visit was different, very different. Forcing himself to stand still and not move out towards the next cover, he eyed the familiar wide plaza, with the graceful stone-arches that hid the key to the deathly Wraith-traps and the stone houses with the heavy stone roofs. P452-81. Here his long journey had begun. Back then he had accompanied Woolsey here and they had been greeted by the Elders of the city, an honour guard and Captain-General Vintár. Today there were only the guards and one of the Elders, a stern looking lady, greeting them. “I greet you, John Shepard of the Lanteáns, we are deeply honoured you returned to our world.” She bowed deeply as did the guards.
John bit his lip, he had held some kind of rep even before becoming a runner, but after all that happened in the past one and a half year his name was connected with an outright legend. He wasn’t sure if you was ready to deal with it, or if he ever would be. “I thank you, honoured Elder.” He spoke firmly, but friendly, trying to offend her from the start. “I had to return here and be it only for Vintár.” He had to exercise some control to mention the name calmly, casually. He vividly remembered the Captain-General, a warrior about two decades his senior, seasoned in many battles and very successful in fighting the Wraith. They had fought side by side when the Wraith had attacked this settlement. He had tried to push John out of the path of the culling beam and been hit by a Wraith-blade in the process. The last time John had seen Vintár, the warrior had been down, a blade nailing him to the ground.
“You came here for justice.” The Elder observed. “We are grateful you take such a hard judgement out of our hands.” She began walking, inviting John to follow, the guards trailing behind them. John followed exchanging a glance with Ronon, but his tall friend only shrugged and rolled his eyes, like he wanted to say ‘What did you expect?’
“This… this judgement… since when has it been your tradition?” Rodney interjected, trying to make conversation.
The Elder arched an eyebrow. “Ever since the great war ended. There was no need to invoke it in a long time, of course.”
“You must be aware that the Captain-General did all he could,” Teyla spoke serenely as always. “the chance of pushing someone out of a culling beam’s path is very slim, even for those with sharp reflexes.”
The Elder stopped. “Be that as it may, the matter stand: Vintár failed, where no one can be allowed to fail. He failed the true blood and will face the consequences.” He old face softened, some of the harsh lines faded away. “It is still good to see that you are willing to speak for him, Teyla of Athos. Hearing that not all condemn him for his failure will make his last path easier on him.”
John bit his lip but didn’t say a thing. When he had first heard of the fate Vintár faced, he had still believed it was just one of Michael’s cruel jokes, something to rile him up. Ronon had not been sure about that kind of thing, as his people had been cautious in all their dealings with the Lan’tyans, but Jircanor had eventually confirmed what Michael had said, expanding it by some details John didn’t exactly want to know. He was still glad General O’Neill hadn’t made too much fuss about this mission. His last minute advise before they had stepped through the gate, was still clearly audible in John’s mind: “Listen Sheppard, those warrior communities, no matter where in the world, they take this whole honour-death thing very serious. If you want to make this work, you better make it good.” John agreed with this assessment, but had not mentioned that he was willing to play on the rather unique status these people granted him to get his way in this one.
They reached the great courtyard below the grand hall. John straightened his shoulders and held his head high as he entered this place. Here it had been: they had pushed through the ranks of the Wraith, the troops on the roofs had used explosives to clear out the courtyards left and right, while John, Vintár and some other fighters cleared out the courtyard. John could still hear Vintárs warning shout… the push that threw him down, not far enough to escape the blinding white light that enveloped him, while he saw through a veil of bright whiteness that Vintár went down with a blade in his body. John forced the reminiscences out of his mind, focusing on the here and now. Ranks of guards were flanking the place, and people were flocking into the courtyards and to the roofs to see what was happening. They had already learned what was happening and arrived here even before the other Elders descended the stairs from the great hall. They took their place in a semi-circle on the other side of the plaza. John stood exactly opposite of them.
Under different circumstances he would have hated being the centre of so much attention. Not now. If his being ‘of the true blood’ could influence what happened here, he was willing to live up to it. Remembering the memories of General Lucian he had shared during the events in the ruined city, he raised his voice as he spoke to the Elders. “You may begin,” his tone was nearly arrogant and surely dismissive, but he knew that’s what they expected him to be.
The spokesman of the council stepped forward, bowing to John, then turning to the people around. “People of Lardymár: A fallen year and a rising year ago in this very place one of our ranks failed where none must fail. He let down those we swore to fight for, he broke the oath which was upheld since the time the great darkness came. Unlike for those others, whose names are forgotten in shame, for him the one he failed returned to mete out the full measure of justice. Witness and remember this day!”
“Careful. He’s making a spectacle out of this.” John wasn’t sure if one of his observations just took this peculiar form in his head, or if he actually had heard Lucian’s voice. Hell, after all the time he had been connected first to Ronon and then to Tarishaár, he was used to hearing voices far too much! Keeping his eyes on the Elders, he saw the spokesman step back into the ranks of the Elders and heard his voice ringing out: “Bring the nameless one!”
So, eliminating the name of a person was the first step on their way to execution. John’s jaw clenched, it had been another time and another place when he had been in that place himself, with somebody claiming he did not exist. No more of that. He waited outwardly unmoving, his mind less calm.
The guard’s ranks on the left side broke up and opened room for a man that was led on the plaza. Clad in dark rags, his hair grown out and much more grey than John remembered and pale-faced from too long a time in the dark, but still Vintár held himself straight, betraying no weakness or fear. He wore no chains or other restrains and John was well aware that if Vintár had wanted to escape he probably could. John had seen Vintár fight and new the skills the man had. Instead one of the guards handed the man a blade. Seeing it from quite a distance John could not be 100% sure, but he was rather certain that this blade was the same Vintár had used back during that battle. Vintár took the blade and began alone to walk across the plaza towards John.
A heavy silence had fallen over the plaza. Nobody spoke, nobody murmured, the spectators were watching breathlessly and John was sure that even without his Runner-sharpened senses he would have known if somebody was clumsy enough to drop a needle. But there was nothing, only the silence and Vintárs light steps as he came closer. John’s gaze had focused on Vintár. The man could not deny the time he spend in a dark cell, his whole appearance spoke of it, but all the time had not broken the warrior, this was all too clear in his appearance. Their eyes met, and John was surprised to see neither rage nor anger in them, only calm acceptance. “Do not watch them in anger, at least not in anger for this. The Lanteans are the only hope they ever had, the one and only hope there ever was. If we fail the Lanteans what hope remains then?”
John blinked rapidly, had he just heard Vintárs thoughts or was he imagining things? He kept his focus on Vintár, kept the eye contact. “Do not fear, my friend. You did not fail me.” John could see Vintárs shocked expression, if nobody else saw it and was sure that Vintár had heard his thoughts somehow. Damn it, he would have to ask Jircanor the next time the former Runner came back to the city.
Vintár had reached them, he stopped about two paces away from John, dropped to one knee, presenting the blade. John suddenly understood: the delinquent brought his own blade to the executioner and asked for the justice handed out. His eyes brushed over the people crowding the plaza, waiting for the execution to take place. John inwardly shook his head, he wouldn’t do it, no matter what they thought. Taking the blade from Vintárs hands, he handed it to over to Ronon. The big guy didn’t need explanations, he knew how to behave. Catching him by the shoulders John helped Vintár up, again their eyes met. “You did not fail me.” John said aloud this time. “You DID NOT fail me. You nearly died for me.” Taking a half-step back, John gestured Ronon, promptly getting back the blade. He took it up, then offered it back to Vintár. “The war is not over,” he said loud enough to carry across the plaza. “it may not be over for many years and there will be many battles to come. Battles I need you to fight.”
Vintár accepted the blade, accepted it proudly. “To fight and to follow, wherever you lead.” He replied.
A chill ran up John’s spine. He knew Vintár meant those words exactly as he said them. He would follow John’s orders no matter what and he would fight whomever John ordered him to fight, no questions asked. But this was not the time to ponder these implications. John strode forward into the centre of the plaza. “You came here today, expecting to see a man die for something you judged as failure.” He called out, so that even the people in the courtyards had to hear him. “Captain-General Vintár did not fail me, he saved my life from a blade that would have finished me off for sure. Yet you judged him, and sentenced him to a long time in darkness. You claim to follow the law of the Lanteans - and yet you have still much to learn about what that means. Lantean law was never deliberately cruel, and never set out to humiliate needlessly. Think about this, the next time you pass judgement!”
He heard a light chuckle in the back of his head. “Not bad, you gave them something to mull over for some time. Let them stew in it.” John suppressed a scowl, this time he was sure he had heard Lucian’s voice quite clearly. And it still didn’t bother him too much. He wondered if it should.
The people were beginning to retreat and Elders withdrew to the council hall. Most people looked thoughtful, and some of them downright confused. That went especially for the guards that were exchanging worried looks. They probably wondered how to treat Vintár now. John relieved them of the problem, by gesturing Vintár to follow them. “Let’s return to the gate. The General doesn’t like us gadding about.”
As they walked down the road again, Rodney caught up to Shepard. “Not that I mind all the dramatic thing you did up there.” He began speaking. “but why are we taking the guy with us? I mean, I understand you don’t want to leave him here after all that happened, but…”
John sighed, Rodney had improved remarkably in his time with Athosians but he was still somewhat dense when it came to things that were not theoretical physics. “Rodney, Vintár kept his people safe from the Wraith for about three decades, and that’s not counting for all the good tactical ideas he implemented in that city, they will keep helping his people long after he is gone. What do you think how many other communities out there could need a man like him? Starting with our friends of Athos? And Jircanor will gladly have him with the Irregulars.”
“If you tell him to, anyway.” Rodney could not hide the fact that he found the way the Dhemarigán Runner followed John’s orders a little disconcerting. “But General O’Neill should have a say in this, I think, before we bring someone with us back to base.”
“He suggested it in the first place.” John replied. “But you slept open eyed through the briefing. With the Irregulars doing that much scouting and sneaking around for us, they can use a few more people. Not to mention the fact that in his three months tenure as Commander of the Atlantis expedition General O’Neill forged an re-forged a good deal of Alliances all across Pegasus…”
“… and the obligations that come with such Alliances strain our personal, I get it.” Rodney conceded the point.
Ronon strode up to John, walking beside him. “Smart guy doesn’t understand, he doesn’t see the war that is coming.” He said in low tones.
John nodded, glad that at least one of his friends understood. “Something is coming, big guy. I don’t know what it is, but something is happening. Something big.”
“Oh now we do a “I felt a disturbance in the force” thingy?” Rodney quipped, exasperated. “I wonder how Carson ever could give you a clean bill of mental health.”
“Shut up,” Ronon towered angrily over the scientist. “that’s nothing you need to understand.” His whole demeanor made clear that he was rather willing to knock Rodney down and carry him back to the gate unconscious if necessary.
“Ronon, Rodney - this is not the time, nor the place.” Teyla stepped between the two men. “I think we should return home without delay.” They took her advice and ten minutes later they were dialing out, back to Atlantis.
Story: You can stand with us. (1/?)
Pairing: nothing as of yet.
Summary: Sequel to "You can run with us" Three months after returning to Atlantis, John is still struggling with the changes his time as a Runner wrought on him and danger is always only one planet away.
Rating: for this chapter: 13 , may be higher in later chapters
Warnings: some violence
Status: WIP
Spoilers: Up to ‘The lost tribe’.
Wordcount: ca.2900
You can stand with us
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, names or other various parts of the SG/SGA universe and all rights are with their respective owners. This is a work of non-profit fanfiction, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Author’s note: This is the sequel to “You can run with us”, and it is advisable to read the story before this one, or it will be hard to understand what happened. You can run with us was written before the fifth season was finished and follows canon events until about “The lost tribe” but is more or les AU for all intends and purposes.
While I will try to keep up with updating the story regularly, I doubt I will be able to write it in the same pace I did “You can run with us” and be it only because I RL demands on my time have increased drastically since then.
Prologue - Of the true blood
No one lives forever
All that really matters
Find the one
(Blind Guardian: Sacred)
John could not help it, he was tense when he stepped out of the gate. It wasn’t the tense, ever watchful reaction he had retained during his time as a Runner, but nervousness that he couldn’t fight off. In the three months since his return to Atlantis he had never ever felt nervous when passing through the gate, at least not when he was able to get moving once he arrived on the other side. But this visit was different, very different. Forcing himself to stand still and not move out towards the next cover, he eyed the familiar wide plaza, with the graceful stone-arches that hid the key to the deathly Wraith-traps and the stone houses with the heavy stone roofs. P452-81. Here his long journey had begun. Back then he had accompanied Woolsey here and they had been greeted by the Elders of the city, an honour guard and Captain-General Vintár. Today there were only the guards and one of the Elders, a stern looking lady, greeting them. “I greet you, John Shepard of the Lanteáns, we are deeply honoured you returned to our world.” She bowed deeply as did the guards.
John bit his lip, he had held some kind of rep even before becoming a runner, but after all that happened in the past one and a half year his name was connected with an outright legend. He wasn’t sure if you was ready to deal with it, or if he ever would be. “I thank you, honoured Elder.” He spoke firmly, but friendly, trying to offend her from the start. “I had to return here and be it only for Vintár.” He had to exercise some control to mention the name calmly, casually. He vividly remembered the Captain-General, a warrior about two decades his senior, seasoned in many battles and very successful in fighting the Wraith. They had fought side by side when the Wraith had attacked this settlement. He had tried to push John out of the path of the culling beam and been hit by a Wraith-blade in the process. The last time John had seen Vintár, the warrior had been down, a blade nailing him to the ground.
“You came here for justice.” The Elder observed. “We are grateful you take such a hard judgement out of our hands.” She began walking, inviting John to follow, the guards trailing behind them. John followed exchanging a glance with Ronon, but his tall friend only shrugged and rolled his eyes, like he wanted to say ‘What did you expect?’
“This… this judgement… since when has it been your tradition?” Rodney interjected, trying to make conversation.
The Elder arched an eyebrow. “Ever since the great war ended. There was no need to invoke it in a long time, of course.”
“You must be aware that the Captain-General did all he could,” Teyla spoke serenely as always. “the chance of pushing someone out of a culling beam’s path is very slim, even for those with sharp reflexes.”
The Elder stopped. “Be that as it may, the matter stand: Vintár failed, where no one can be allowed to fail. He failed the true blood and will face the consequences.” He old face softened, some of the harsh lines faded away. “It is still good to see that you are willing to speak for him, Teyla of Athos. Hearing that not all condemn him for his failure will make his last path easier on him.”
John bit his lip but didn’t say a thing. When he had first heard of the fate Vintár faced, he had still believed it was just one of Michael’s cruel jokes, something to rile him up. Ronon had not been sure about that kind of thing, as his people had been cautious in all their dealings with the Lan’tyans, but Jircanor had eventually confirmed what Michael had said, expanding it by some details John didn’t exactly want to know. He was still glad General O’Neill hadn’t made too much fuss about this mission. His last minute advise before they had stepped through the gate, was still clearly audible in John’s mind: “Listen Sheppard, those warrior communities, no matter where in the world, they take this whole honour-death thing very serious. If you want to make this work, you better make it good.” John agreed with this assessment, but had not mentioned that he was willing to play on the rather unique status these people granted him to get his way in this one.
They reached the great courtyard below the grand hall. John straightened his shoulders and held his head high as he entered this place. Here it had been: they had pushed through the ranks of the Wraith, the troops on the roofs had used explosives to clear out the courtyards left and right, while John, Vintár and some other fighters cleared out the courtyard. John could still hear Vintárs warning shout… the push that threw him down, not far enough to escape the blinding white light that enveloped him, while he saw through a veil of bright whiteness that Vintár went down with a blade in his body. John forced the reminiscences out of his mind, focusing on the here and now. Ranks of guards were flanking the place, and people were flocking into the courtyards and to the roofs to see what was happening. They had already learned what was happening and arrived here even before the other Elders descended the stairs from the great hall. They took their place in a semi-circle on the other side of the plaza. John stood exactly opposite of them.
Under different circumstances he would have hated being the centre of so much attention. Not now. If his being ‘of the true blood’ could influence what happened here, he was willing to live up to it. Remembering the memories of General Lucian he had shared during the events in the ruined city, he raised his voice as he spoke to the Elders. “You may begin,” his tone was nearly arrogant and surely dismissive, but he knew that’s what they expected him to be.
The spokesman of the council stepped forward, bowing to John, then turning to the people around. “People of Lardymár: A fallen year and a rising year ago in this very place one of our ranks failed where none must fail. He let down those we swore to fight for, he broke the oath which was upheld since the time the great darkness came. Unlike for those others, whose names are forgotten in shame, for him the one he failed returned to mete out the full measure of justice. Witness and remember this day!”
“Careful. He’s making a spectacle out of this.” John wasn’t sure if one of his observations just took this peculiar form in his head, or if he actually had heard Lucian’s voice. Hell, after all the time he had been connected first to Ronon and then to Tarishaár, he was used to hearing voices far too much! Keeping his eyes on the Elders, he saw the spokesman step back into the ranks of the Elders and heard his voice ringing out: “Bring the nameless one!”
So, eliminating the name of a person was the first step on their way to execution. John’s jaw clenched, it had been another time and another place when he had been in that place himself, with somebody claiming he did not exist. No more of that. He waited outwardly unmoving, his mind less calm.
The guard’s ranks on the left side broke up and opened room for a man that was led on the plaza. Clad in dark rags, his hair grown out and much more grey than John remembered and pale-faced from too long a time in the dark, but still Vintár held himself straight, betraying no weakness or fear. He wore no chains or other restrains and John was well aware that if Vintár had wanted to escape he probably could. John had seen Vintár fight and new the skills the man had. Instead one of the guards handed the man a blade. Seeing it from quite a distance John could not be 100% sure, but he was rather certain that this blade was the same Vintár had used back during that battle. Vintár took the blade and began alone to walk across the plaza towards John.
A heavy silence had fallen over the plaza. Nobody spoke, nobody murmured, the spectators were watching breathlessly and John was sure that even without his Runner-sharpened senses he would have known if somebody was clumsy enough to drop a needle. But there was nothing, only the silence and Vintárs light steps as he came closer. John’s gaze had focused on Vintár. The man could not deny the time he spend in a dark cell, his whole appearance spoke of it, but all the time had not broken the warrior, this was all too clear in his appearance. Their eyes met, and John was surprised to see neither rage nor anger in them, only calm acceptance. “Do not watch them in anger, at least not in anger for this. The Lanteans are the only hope they ever had, the one and only hope there ever was. If we fail the Lanteans what hope remains then?”
John blinked rapidly, had he just heard Vintárs thoughts or was he imagining things? He kept his focus on Vintár, kept the eye contact. “Do not fear, my friend. You did not fail me.” John could see Vintárs shocked expression, if nobody else saw it and was sure that Vintár had heard his thoughts somehow. Damn it, he would have to ask Jircanor the next time the former Runner came back to the city.
Vintár had reached them, he stopped about two paces away from John, dropped to one knee, presenting the blade. John suddenly understood: the delinquent brought his own blade to the executioner and asked for the justice handed out. His eyes brushed over the people crowding the plaza, waiting for the execution to take place. John inwardly shook his head, he wouldn’t do it, no matter what they thought. Taking the blade from Vintárs hands, he handed it to over to Ronon. The big guy didn’t need explanations, he knew how to behave. Catching him by the shoulders John helped Vintár up, again their eyes met. “You did not fail me.” John said aloud this time. “You DID NOT fail me. You nearly died for me.” Taking a half-step back, John gestured Ronon, promptly getting back the blade. He took it up, then offered it back to Vintár. “The war is not over,” he said loud enough to carry across the plaza. “it may not be over for many years and there will be many battles to come. Battles I need you to fight.”
Vintár accepted the blade, accepted it proudly. “To fight and to follow, wherever you lead.” He replied.
A chill ran up John’s spine. He knew Vintár meant those words exactly as he said them. He would follow John’s orders no matter what and he would fight whomever John ordered him to fight, no questions asked. But this was not the time to ponder these implications. John strode forward into the centre of the plaza. “You came here today, expecting to see a man die for something you judged as failure.” He called out, so that even the people in the courtyards had to hear him. “Captain-General Vintár did not fail me, he saved my life from a blade that would have finished me off for sure. Yet you judged him, and sentenced him to a long time in darkness. You claim to follow the law of the Lanteans - and yet you have still much to learn about what that means. Lantean law was never deliberately cruel, and never set out to humiliate needlessly. Think about this, the next time you pass judgement!”
He heard a light chuckle in the back of his head. “Not bad, you gave them something to mull over for some time. Let them stew in it.” John suppressed a scowl, this time he was sure he had heard Lucian’s voice quite clearly. And it still didn’t bother him too much. He wondered if it should.
The people were beginning to retreat and Elders withdrew to the council hall. Most people looked thoughtful, and some of them downright confused. That went especially for the guards that were exchanging worried looks. They probably wondered how to treat Vintár now. John relieved them of the problem, by gesturing Vintár to follow them. “Let’s return to the gate. The General doesn’t like us gadding about.”
As they walked down the road again, Rodney caught up to Shepard. “Not that I mind all the dramatic thing you did up there.” He began speaking. “but why are we taking the guy with us? I mean, I understand you don’t want to leave him here after all that happened, but…”
John sighed, Rodney had improved remarkably in his time with Athosians but he was still somewhat dense when it came to things that were not theoretical physics. “Rodney, Vintár kept his people safe from the Wraith for about three decades, and that’s not counting for all the good tactical ideas he implemented in that city, they will keep helping his people long after he is gone. What do you think how many other communities out there could need a man like him? Starting with our friends of Athos? And Jircanor will gladly have him with the Irregulars.”
“If you tell him to, anyway.” Rodney could not hide the fact that he found the way the Dhemarigán Runner followed John’s orders a little disconcerting. “But General O’Neill should have a say in this, I think, before we bring someone with us back to base.”
“He suggested it in the first place.” John replied. “But you slept open eyed through the briefing. With the Irregulars doing that much scouting and sneaking around for us, they can use a few more people. Not to mention the fact that in his three months tenure as Commander of the Atlantis expedition General O’Neill forged an re-forged a good deal of Alliances all across Pegasus…”
“… and the obligations that come with such Alliances strain our personal, I get it.” Rodney conceded the point.
Ronon strode up to John, walking beside him. “Smart guy doesn’t understand, he doesn’t see the war that is coming.” He said in low tones.
John nodded, glad that at least one of his friends understood. “Something is coming, big guy. I don’t know what it is, but something is happening. Something big.”
“Oh now we do a “I felt a disturbance in the force” thingy?” Rodney quipped, exasperated. “I wonder how Carson ever could give you a clean bill of mental health.”
“Shut up,” Ronon towered angrily over the scientist. “that’s nothing you need to understand.” His whole demeanor made clear that he was rather willing to knock Rodney down and carry him back to the gate unconscious if necessary.
“Ronon, Rodney - this is not the time, nor the place.” Teyla stepped between the two men. “I think we should return home without delay.” They took her advice and ten minutes later they were dialing out, back to Atlantis.