Fic teaser
OMG. So apparently my writer's block is tied into the local weather, who knew? Also. I don't know exactly where this is heading, only that it's an (extremely) rough draft and amazingly fun to write.
Also, also? This is was totally meant to be crack. Totally. There are no dead people here. Not so's you'd notice, anyhow. You may, in fact, remember me talking about something similar in such polls as this one.
He's been to the main building enough times that he doesn't feel like e gawking tourist anymore, but it's pretty damn difficult not to. Still, he's a professional and professionals do not gawk, even when the people around him do. Asking him to 'Take a picture of the missus and me, if you wouldn't mind' and staring up and up and up, smiling in amazement and something like delight, saying 'Lord almighty, a lot of money must have gone into building that thing, huh?'
Smiling, because it's what he does, he takes the picture and a few more besides, politely answering as truthfully as he knows how that 'Yes, someone must have spent a lot of money to build something like that.' Gleaming glass and shining steel, reaching for the sky like it might just take flight one day, and wouldn't that be a thing to see?
Waving goodbye to the Olssons from Kansas he walks up the granite steps and pulls the spotless glass doors open and everything changes.
Outside there's sunshine and warmth and carefully tended trees and hedges that have been allowed to grow a little wild to emphasize the sheer grandness of the building behind it. Sleek, elegant lines and sharp angles that's all about form and function meeting and melding and a little disorienting the when chaos and order collide, but inside...
Inside everything is blues and greens and reds and golds and sunlight filtering through the windows just so. Calm and cool and strangely comforting for all the contradictions as well as a dour looking woman at the security desk asking for his ID with a pointed look.
He flashes her his most winning smile as he produces his ID badge, and throws her a wink when she gestures at the bank of elevators behind her.
"It's always a pleasure." He tells her, humming slightly under his breath as he waits for the elevator.
She doesn't quite scowl at him, she has too much self-control for that, but he knows she doesn't like him. A lot of the security people in the building don't, something he attributes to their boss' burning hatred for him.
There's no elevator music here, just the faint hum of the motor and thrum of motion and he's where he needs to be. Top floor, and just outside the elevator doors there's a sturdy marble-topped desk with a glaring Bates seated behind it watching him like a hawk.
"Sheppard, John Sheppard." He says holding out his ID badge, because he knows it annoys Bates to no end that someone in his position could possibly be so irreverent, so blatantly disrespectful.
John knows enough by now to realize that if Bates is manning the reception desk for her that he could probably kill him in at least a dozen different ways with just
the pen next to open appointment book on the desk in front of him. Instead, he presses the intercom button, eyes never leaving John's face as he speaks. "Your ten o'clock is here, ma'am." He says, eyes narrowing slightly. "He seems to think he has a sense of humor."
There's an amused huff of laughter and then her voice filters out, smooth and controlled as ever. "Send him in."
Bates waves him on towards a large door and he flashes him a smile as he walks past, almost smirking when Bates actually growls at him, but then he's through the door and in her office and the smirk vanishes.
Elizabeth looks as elegant as ever, beautiful and stunning and more dangerous in her own way than Bates could ever hope to be.
"Thank you, Chuck." She murmurs, her assistant hovering beside her desk with his arms full of date books and schedules and god only knows what else because among other things, Elizabeth is a very busy, very important woman. "That will be all for now."
Chuck smiles at her, sweet and shy and really just too damn young to be caught up in all this, but it's not John's place to say.
Elizabeth looks up as Chuck leaves the room, lips turned upwards slightly as though she knows exactly what he's thinking. "John. It's good to see you again."
John's eyebrows go up at that because the last time they actually saw one another was over the burning wreckage of a multi-billion dollar aircraft. She certainly hadn't been smiling then.
"Lorne said you were anxious to meet with me." He takes the chair directly across from her, barely sparing a glance for the empty one slightly off to the side. "I was under the impression that you didn't want anything to do with me after that last incident."
He takes some sort of perverse satisfaction from the way her smile falters, eyes narrowing slightly as she places her hands, palm down on the desk. "That was...an unusual situation, and certainly one that was out of your control."
John nods at that, because yes, it most certainly was. Especially after -
"Regardless of any problems between the two of us, I asked you here today at the request of an...acquaintance of mine."
"Oh, really." John says, sitting up straighter at that, because he's never really cared much for surprises.
That, of course, is apparently Bates' cue, as he informs them that Elizabeth's VIP has just arrived.
Elizabeth turns away from him to speak with Bates for a moment, voice hushed, and John stares at her.
In all the time he's known Elizabeth Weir, he's never seen her act like this, and he's known her for some time now. He knows her well enough to recognize the signs, the fact that she actually broke eye contact with him and exactly what that could mean for him in this situation. What it could mean for his people.
"John," Elizabeth looks distraught, clearly displeased by whatever is bothering her, and he finds himself wishing he'd ignored her summons, just this once. "John you need to understand - "
John twists around as the outer doors swing open, a tall woman in a dark blue suit striding towards them with a no-nonsense expression on her face.
"Dr. Weir, we greatly your cooperation in this matter." The woman says, gaze sliding over to John, frowning slightly. "And you must be John Sheppard?"
John glances at Elizabeth, sees how stiffly she's holding herself and nods. "I must be." He answers, smiling amiably, because it's always better to let others underestimate him, make their own assumptions regarding what they see. "And you are?"
"Samantha Carter, CIA." She says, holding her hand out. "We've asked Dr. Weir to arrange a meeting with you."
John smiles and shakes her hand, because he knows exactly what she isn't saying. Knows that Elizabeth damn well should have known better, that the whole damn government should have known better.
"Really."
Carter releases his hand and steps back, taking the empty seat next to his. "Your country needs you, Mr. Sheppard. More to the point, we need your expertise."
John opens his mouth to tell her just what his country can do with itself, but Elizabeth intervenes before he can.
"Agent Carter, perhaps if you were to explain the situation to him as you did with me when we spoke earlier?" She gives John a warning look, and as angry as he is for her part in this, he knows better than to ignore it.
Carter's frown deepens, but she pulls out a palm pilot and launches into what he can already tell is some kind of rehearsed spiel, something about dangerous criminal, weapons of mass destruction and -
"So as you can clearly see, Mr. Sheppard. You're the only one qualified to help us track this individual down."
"Clearly." John agrees. "I fail to see why you actually need my help. I'm more of an independent contractor."
Carter looks surprised, confused as to why he's not chomping at the bit to do whatever he can for the good of his country, but he's not quite as willing to risk his life for cheap thrills anymore. He has people now. People that rely on him to keep them safe and financially stable and those are things he can't do if he's dead.
"The person we're looking for was reported to be an associate of yours," Carter says, giving Elizabeth a puzzled look. "From all accounts he was a close friend."
John's eyes widen, and he looks to Elizabeth, because he knows, knows, what's coming even though there's absolutely no way he could have known to expect it.
Elizabeth tries to catch his eye, but John's staring at Carter, unable to look away as she consults her notes. "Agent Carter - "
"Rodney McKay." Carter says, grimacing slightly. "Dr. Rodney McKay, Astrophysicist."
He tries not to, but really it's a little too much. Rodney's dead, has been since the damned idiot went and blew himself up, and while he's always known the government had issues with filing the proper paperwork, three years should have been more than enough time.
...TBC?
*flees*
Also, also? This is was totally meant to be crack. Totally. There are no dead people here. Not so's you'd notice, anyhow. You may, in fact, remember me talking about something similar in such polls as this one.
He's been to the main building enough times that he doesn't feel like e gawking tourist anymore, but it's pretty damn difficult not to. Still, he's a professional and professionals do not gawk, even when the people around him do. Asking him to 'Take a picture of the missus and me, if you wouldn't mind' and staring up and up and up, smiling in amazement and something like delight, saying 'Lord almighty, a lot of money must have gone into building that thing, huh?'
Smiling, because it's what he does, he takes the picture and a few more besides, politely answering as truthfully as he knows how that 'Yes, someone must have spent a lot of money to build something like that.' Gleaming glass and shining steel, reaching for the sky like it might just take flight one day, and wouldn't that be a thing to see?
Waving goodbye to the Olssons from Kansas he walks up the granite steps and pulls the spotless glass doors open and everything changes.
Outside there's sunshine and warmth and carefully tended trees and hedges that have been allowed to grow a little wild to emphasize the sheer grandness of the building behind it. Sleek, elegant lines and sharp angles that's all about form and function meeting and melding and a little disorienting the when chaos and order collide, but inside...
Inside everything is blues and greens and reds and golds and sunlight filtering through the windows just so. Calm and cool and strangely comforting for all the contradictions as well as a dour looking woman at the security desk asking for his ID with a pointed look.
He flashes her his most winning smile as he produces his ID badge, and throws her a wink when she gestures at the bank of elevators behind her.
"It's always a pleasure." He tells her, humming slightly under his breath as he waits for the elevator.
She doesn't quite scowl at him, she has too much self-control for that, but he knows she doesn't like him. A lot of the security people in the building don't, something he attributes to their boss' burning hatred for him.
There's no elevator music here, just the faint hum of the motor and thrum of motion and he's where he needs to be. Top floor, and just outside the elevator doors there's a sturdy marble-topped desk with a glaring Bates seated behind it watching him like a hawk.
"Sheppard, John Sheppard." He says holding out his ID badge, because he knows it annoys Bates to no end that someone in his position could possibly be so irreverent, so blatantly disrespectful.
John knows enough by now to realize that if Bates is manning the reception desk for her that he could probably kill him in at least a dozen different ways with just
the pen next to open appointment book on the desk in front of him. Instead, he presses the intercom button, eyes never leaving John's face as he speaks. "Your ten o'clock is here, ma'am." He says, eyes narrowing slightly. "He seems to think he has a sense of humor."
There's an amused huff of laughter and then her voice filters out, smooth and controlled as ever. "Send him in."
Bates waves him on towards a large door and he flashes him a smile as he walks past, almost smirking when Bates actually growls at him, but then he's through the door and in her office and the smirk vanishes.
Elizabeth looks as elegant as ever, beautiful and stunning and more dangerous in her own way than Bates could ever hope to be.
"Thank you, Chuck." She murmurs, her assistant hovering beside her desk with his arms full of date books and schedules and god only knows what else because among other things, Elizabeth is a very busy, very important woman. "That will be all for now."
Chuck smiles at her, sweet and shy and really just too damn young to be caught up in all this, but it's not John's place to say.
Elizabeth looks up as Chuck leaves the room, lips turned upwards slightly as though she knows exactly what he's thinking. "John. It's good to see you again."
John's eyebrows go up at that because the last time they actually saw one another was over the burning wreckage of a multi-billion dollar aircraft. She certainly hadn't been smiling then.
"Lorne said you were anxious to meet with me." He takes the chair directly across from her, barely sparing a glance for the empty one slightly off to the side. "I was under the impression that you didn't want anything to do with me after that last incident."
He takes some sort of perverse satisfaction from the way her smile falters, eyes narrowing slightly as she places her hands, palm down on the desk. "That was...an unusual situation, and certainly one that was out of your control."
John nods at that, because yes, it most certainly was. Especially after -
"Regardless of any problems between the two of us, I asked you here today at the request of an...acquaintance of mine."
"Oh, really." John says, sitting up straighter at that, because he's never really cared much for surprises.
That, of course, is apparently Bates' cue, as he informs them that Elizabeth's VIP has just arrived.
Elizabeth turns away from him to speak with Bates for a moment, voice hushed, and John stares at her.
In all the time he's known Elizabeth Weir, he's never seen her act like this, and he's known her for some time now. He knows her well enough to recognize the signs, the fact that she actually broke eye contact with him and exactly what that could mean for him in this situation. What it could mean for his people.
"John," Elizabeth looks distraught, clearly displeased by whatever is bothering her, and he finds himself wishing he'd ignored her summons, just this once. "John you need to understand - "
John twists around as the outer doors swing open, a tall woman in a dark blue suit striding towards them with a no-nonsense expression on her face.
"Dr. Weir, we greatly your cooperation in this matter." The woman says, gaze sliding over to John, frowning slightly. "And you must be John Sheppard?"
John glances at Elizabeth, sees how stiffly she's holding herself and nods. "I must be." He answers, smiling amiably, because it's always better to let others underestimate him, make their own assumptions regarding what they see. "And you are?"
"Samantha Carter, CIA." She says, holding her hand out. "We've asked Dr. Weir to arrange a meeting with you."
John smiles and shakes her hand, because he knows exactly what she isn't saying. Knows that Elizabeth damn well should have known better, that the whole damn government should have known better.
"Really."
Carter releases his hand and steps back, taking the empty seat next to his. "Your country needs you, Mr. Sheppard. More to the point, we need your expertise."
John opens his mouth to tell her just what his country can do with itself, but Elizabeth intervenes before he can.
"Agent Carter, perhaps if you were to explain the situation to him as you did with me when we spoke earlier?" She gives John a warning look, and as angry as he is for her part in this, he knows better than to ignore it.
Carter's frown deepens, but she pulls out a palm pilot and launches into what he can already tell is some kind of rehearsed spiel, something about dangerous criminal, weapons of mass destruction and -
"So as you can clearly see, Mr. Sheppard. You're the only one qualified to help us track this individual down."
"Clearly." John agrees. "I fail to see why you actually need my help. I'm more of an independent contractor."
Carter looks surprised, confused as to why he's not chomping at the bit to do whatever he can for the good of his country, but he's not quite as willing to risk his life for cheap thrills anymore. He has people now. People that rely on him to keep them safe and financially stable and those are things he can't do if he's dead.
"The person we're looking for was reported to be an associate of yours," Carter says, giving Elizabeth a puzzled look. "From all accounts he was a close friend."
John's eyes widen, and he looks to Elizabeth, because he knows, knows, what's coming even though there's absolutely no way he could have known to expect it.
Elizabeth tries to catch his eye, but John's staring at Carter, unable to look away as she consults her notes. "Agent Carter - "
"Rodney McKay." Carter says, grimacing slightly. "Dr. Rodney McKay, Astrophysicist."
He tries not to, but really it's a little too much. Rodney's dead, has been since the damned idiot went and blew himself up, and while he's always known the government had issues with filing the proper paperwork, three years should have been more than enough time.
...TBC?
*flees*