(no subject)
I'm not sure if it's a reflection of how I've been feeling about life in general the past few months, but most of what I've been able to write recently has been sort of. Hmmm. Bitter? Angry? I don't know, how else to describe it. But! So! I also realize this is a few years late? Like, oh, say, a billion? But here are five more scenes from a not-quite abandoned AU, following on from here. Super rough draft, and also the first 'real'...fic..thing-y I've written in forever. (Yeah, I don't really know either, but whatever. Also, it's very much a fill in the blanks with SGA cliches and Ancient devices and whatnot, so, yeah. *hands*)
John's bouncing the tennis ball O'Neill gave him when he was given command of a gate team ("You never know when you'll need one," O'Neill had said, deadly serious, like John's life depended on it before making a face and muttering something about scientists John hadn't really understood at the time.) off the holding cell's force field and ignoring the looks Carter's sending his way. The rhythmic thump of the ball hitting the floor before it reaches the force field is comforting in a really messed up way, John knows, but it's the only thing he has to keep himself from thinking about all the ways things could go to hell for them. Plus, it has the added benefit of annoying Carter, who is far from being John's favorite person at the moment.
Henderson's trying to catch some sleep while he can, back against the bunk and using poor Williams' shoulder as a pillow. Williams has, like the rest of them, spent his fair share of time in a holding cell of some kind during off-world missions, but John has a feeling none of those times have ever been like this.
For one, they're being held by a group of people who are, ostensibly, their people. Ordinarily, John would think that was more than a little fucked up, but, well. The reason they came to Pegasus was to kidnap someone who was, ostensibly, one of their people, so. For another, Carter is pissed.
"Karma's a bitch," John says, catching the tennis ball as it bounces off the force field. He's careful not to look at Carter, restlessly prowling around the edges of the cell, poking and prodding and getting zapped for her trouble as she tries to find a way out of it. John doesn't think she's going to succeed, but for once is smart enough not to say anything.
John's aware of Williams watching the two of them with very, very wide eyes. Henderson, John knows, couldn't give a shit if Carter and John go at it over just how fucking stupid their mission is - was - but Williams? He still looks at SG-1 as if they're heroes, straight off the movie screen with crystal clear understanding of what's right and wrong and would rather die than stray from the path of righteousness.
John snorts at that, looking up to catch Carter's narrow-eyed look as she sweeps past him. He doesn't know if SG-1 was ever like that, like what Williams seems to think they are, but they sure as hell aren't like that now. Nowhere near that, and he gets it. He does. War does that to people, blurs the lines, sometimes erasing them completely. John has yet to meet someone who hasn't had it happen to them, and if he ever does it'll be a fucking miracle.
John's about to say something else, less antagonistic, maybe, when the guard who's been keeping an eye on them suddenly stands up straighter, hand going to his radio.
Carter comes to a stop somewhere off to John's left, waiting , watching. He hears Henderson murmuring to Williams, trying to keep him calm as their guard turns his head to look at them, answering someone on his radio. John's pockets his tennis ball and sits up, waiting to see what's going to happen next and hoping like hell the expedition remembers they're supposed to be on the same team, as if that really means anything anymore with what they've done.
====
====
Weir looks exactly the same as the photo in the file the SGC has on her, but her eyes. Jesus. John has no idea what could make someone as young as she is look like that, like she's been fighting a war she knows she's going to lose but can't bring herself to lie down and surrender.
"Major Sheppard," she says as Lorne takes up a position somewhere behind John, quiet and unobtrusive. "I wish I could say it's a pleasure seeing you again."
John remembers her, vaguely, from Antarctica. He remembers the pitch she'd given him, about the SGC and its driving mission to explore, about Atlantis and what they hoped they could accomplish. About John and his goddamn luck screwing him over again, just when he thought he'd managed to get his feet back under him.
"Dr. Weir," he replies. He doesn't know what she wants, and while he has...issues...with their mission and his orders in particular, he's not going to give her anything she can use to her advantage.
Weir smiles at him, fake, plastic. A diplomat's smile. "I'd like to think this situation is the result of a misunderstanding," she pauses, mouth quirking, "but somehow I don't think that's quite it."
No, John thinks, watching her. She doesn't.
====
====
Lorne escorts John back to the detention cells after his meeting with Weir. Carter's still pacing the confines of their holding cell, restless and agitated and, if possible, even angrier than before.
"Sheppard." Carter's staring at him expectantly, impatiently. It takes a moment for John to realize she's waiting for him to report. The number of armed guards he'd seen, level of alertness, any and everything they'd need to know to stage a breakout. To continue their really fucking stupid mission or, and he knows she'd only choose it as a last resort, call the mission off and find a way back to the Odyssey and the Milky Way.
John knows SG-1 is notorious for giving everything they have, for being willing to die for the cause or principle or whatever the hell they're focused on at the time, but here, now, they aren't SG-1. Carter's not SG-1, if she thinks what they're trying to do is right. John looks over to see Henderson and Williams watching the two of them, waiting to see what's going to happen, what's going to happen to them, and that's what tips John over the edge.
He didn't ask for this, for any of this. He didn't ask for the Ancient gene everyone and their mother seems to want to get their hand on. He didn't ask for the SGC to steal him away to their top secret base buried under a mountain, and he sure as hell didn't ask for a team. For two idiots who probably don't trust him to keep them alive but will still follow his orders because that's what they've been trained to do, and what feels like a new scientist on every goddamn mission they go on, and thank god this time time it's Carter, but John has had enough. He's not about to let his team, his men die for something so fucking stupid and wrong.
Carter must see it, because her expression turns sharp and dangerous, shoulders going back like she's getting ready to fight, and goddamn, John didn't want this. He never wanted this.
"Don't mind me," Lorne says, and he's smiling, almost laughing at them. "'I'll just be over here."
Carter's head jerks around to stare at Lorne, almost as though she'd forgotten he was there. John watches as the anger drains out of her, shoulders relaxing. John knows, even before she turns back to look at him that he's finished at the SGC, but he was pretty sure that would have been true even if they'd somehow managed to succeed in their mission. John sighs, forcing himself to relax and goes back to the spot he'd been sitting in before Lorne had come to get him. He ignores the looks Henderson and Williams are giving him, quiet and watchful, and pulls the tennis ball out of his pocket, turning it around a few time before he starts bouncing it at the force field, settling in to wait for whatever comes next.
====
====
Weir sends for him late in the afternoon the next day, and when he gets to her office McKay and two other people there as well. They're all tense, worried, and the moment John steps in the room with Lorne at his back, all eyes go to him, like he has the solution to whatever problem they're faced with.
"Major Sheppard," Weir says, indicating the others with a flick of her hand, "Teyla Emmagan and Ronon Dex."
John nods at them, belatedly recognizing them from the SGC files. Alien refugees who chose to remain with the expedition, and members of the lead gate team, along with Lorne and McKay.
"Is there a problem?" John asks, completely aware of the way Emmagan and Dex have moved closer to McKay. They obviously know why the Odyssey is in Pegasus, why Carter and the rest of John's team are locked up in Atlantis' brig, and aren't about to take chances with McKay.
Weir studies him for a long moment, expression unreadable. "One of our gate teams is in trouble, Major, and Rodney thinks - "
"We need you," McKay says, everything about him unhappy with the situation, almost as though it actually pains him to get the words out. "There's an Ancient device and, well, quite frankly, you're still the strongest gene carrier we've seen, aside from O'Neill."
John almost, almost smiles at that. "And O'Neill just happens to be in another galaxy at the moment."
McKay jerks his head up, jaw clenched. He knows John's messing with him, with them.
"Major," Weir's voice is quiet, a warning and reminder, both. "I can't order you to do this, but I will ask."
And that. That actually brings John up short because he wasn't expecting that. Weir and the expedition have John exactly where they want him, they're holding John's life and the lives of Carter, his team, everyone on the Odyssey in the palms of their hands, and they're giving him a choice.
He's not looking at McKay or the others head on, but he can see McKay go red at that, with anger or god knows what, but he doesn't say anything. Doesn't demand or threaten, just. Nothing. Emmagan and Dex are quiet, unmoving, but there's the promise of action in the way they're standing, and Lorne. Lorne's watching John, waiting to see what his decision's going to be, just like Weir.
They're offering him a choice, John realizes, and it feels like the first one he's been given in a long time, maybe the first.
====
====
John knows he's pretty much screwed when McKay comes into the quarters they've assigned him with a big grin on his face as he tells him Earth is letting them keep him, like he's some sort of pet, and why not? Thanks to his gene he can do tricks for them, make Ancient gadgets and devices light up. There's a nasty little twist of bitterness mixed in with the surprise and resignation because of course, of course he wouldn't get a choice about this. Or course the SGC would make it for him.
"...Sheppard?"
John looks up to see McKay eying him strangely.
"Is that, I mean - " McKay coughs and looks away, wringing his hands nervously. "That is, if you want to go back to Earth with Carter and the Odyssey," there's a definite down-twist to his mouth, obvious distaste in his tone, "then I'm sure that can be arranged as well, it's just." McKay shrugs, eyes darting to John and away again so fast john almost doesn't catch it. "I meant what I said before," he says, almost mumbles. "About liking it here. Despite the constant threat of horrible, painful death, this is Atlantis."
John can't help the smile because McKay actually sounds awed, reverent. Like he can't believe, even after all this time, that he's here, in another galaxy, living in an alien city on an alien world, and god help him, John understands.
His eyes go to the balcony overlooking the city where he can see Atlantis' towers shining bright and beautiful, and if he tries hard enough, he can picture the see the Ancient warship in orbit over the planet in his mind, big and beautiful and deadly, standing watch over the planet and its people.
He keeps thinking about Earth, and everything waiting for him back there, all the pain and sorrow and regret. The missed chances and roads not taken, every bad decision, even if it was the right one, the only one he could make at the time. He keeps thinking about Atlantis and the people here. Weir, McKay. Emmagan and Dex, and fucking Lorne. All of them. He thinks about how they gave him a choice, a chance, even though they knew who, what he was. Even the SGC hadn't done that for him, although he's starting to think that's what O'Neill had been trying to do, before everything had gone to hell and the Ori started closing in on Earth.
"Yeah, okay," John says, like it's being torn from him. He's terrified he's making another bad decision, one that will do worse than brand hm a disgrace, an outcast. One that might finally break him, but he's already walked away from this before, and knows this isn't something he can walk away from again. "I'll stay."
John's bouncing the tennis ball O'Neill gave him when he was given command of a gate team ("You never know when you'll need one," O'Neill had said, deadly serious, like John's life depended on it before making a face and muttering something about scientists John hadn't really understood at the time.) off the holding cell's force field and ignoring the looks Carter's sending his way. The rhythmic thump of the ball hitting the floor before it reaches the force field is comforting in a really messed up way, John knows, but it's the only thing he has to keep himself from thinking about all the ways things could go to hell for them. Plus, it has the added benefit of annoying Carter, who is far from being John's favorite person at the moment.
Henderson's trying to catch some sleep while he can, back against the bunk and using poor Williams' shoulder as a pillow. Williams has, like the rest of them, spent his fair share of time in a holding cell of some kind during off-world missions, but John has a feeling none of those times have ever been like this.
For one, they're being held by a group of people who are, ostensibly, their people. Ordinarily, John would think that was more than a little fucked up, but, well. The reason they came to Pegasus was to kidnap someone who was, ostensibly, one of their people, so. For another, Carter is pissed.
"Karma's a bitch," John says, catching the tennis ball as it bounces off the force field. He's careful not to look at Carter, restlessly prowling around the edges of the cell, poking and prodding and getting zapped for her trouble as she tries to find a way out of it. John doesn't think she's going to succeed, but for once is smart enough not to say anything.
John's aware of Williams watching the two of them with very, very wide eyes. Henderson, John knows, couldn't give a shit if Carter and John go at it over just how fucking stupid their mission is - was - but Williams? He still looks at SG-1 as if they're heroes, straight off the movie screen with crystal clear understanding of what's right and wrong and would rather die than stray from the path of righteousness.
John snorts at that, looking up to catch Carter's narrow-eyed look as she sweeps past him. He doesn't know if SG-1 was ever like that, like what Williams seems to think they are, but they sure as hell aren't like that now. Nowhere near that, and he gets it. He does. War does that to people, blurs the lines, sometimes erasing them completely. John has yet to meet someone who hasn't had it happen to them, and if he ever does it'll be a fucking miracle.
John's about to say something else, less antagonistic, maybe, when the guard who's been keeping an eye on them suddenly stands up straighter, hand going to his radio.
Carter comes to a stop somewhere off to John's left, waiting , watching. He hears Henderson murmuring to Williams, trying to keep him calm as their guard turns his head to look at them, answering someone on his radio. John's pockets his tennis ball and sits up, waiting to see what's going to happen next and hoping like hell the expedition remembers they're supposed to be on the same team, as if that really means anything anymore with what they've done.
====
====
Weir looks exactly the same as the photo in the file the SGC has on her, but her eyes. Jesus. John has no idea what could make someone as young as she is look like that, like she's been fighting a war she knows she's going to lose but can't bring herself to lie down and surrender.
"Major Sheppard," she says as Lorne takes up a position somewhere behind John, quiet and unobtrusive. "I wish I could say it's a pleasure seeing you again."
John remembers her, vaguely, from Antarctica. He remembers the pitch she'd given him, about the SGC and its driving mission to explore, about Atlantis and what they hoped they could accomplish. About John and his goddamn luck screwing him over again, just when he thought he'd managed to get his feet back under him.
"Dr. Weir," he replies. He doesn't know what she wants, and while he has...issues...with their mission and his orders in particular, he's not going to give her anything she can use to her advantage.
Weir smiles at him, fake, plastic. A diplomat's smile. "I'd like to think this situation is the result of a misunderstanding," she pauses, mouth quirking, "but somehow I don't think that's quite it."
No, John thinks, watching her. She doesn't.
====
====
Lorne escorts John back to the detention cells after his meeting with Weir. Carter's still pacing the confines of their holding cell, restless and agitated and, if possible, even angrier than before.
"Sheppard." Carter's staring at him expectantly, impatiently. It takes a moment for John to realize she's waiting for him to report. The number of armed guards he'd seen, level of alertness, any and everything they'd need to know to stage a breakout. To continue their really fucking stupid mission or, and he knows she'd only choose it as a last resort, call the mission off and find a way back to the Odyssey and the Milky Way.
John knows SG-1 is notorious for giving everything they have, for being willing to die for the cause or principle or whatever the hell they're focused on at the time, but here, now, they aren't SG-1. Carter's not SG-1, if she thinks what they're trying to do is right. John looks over to see Henderson and Williams watching the two of them, waiting to see what's going to happen, what's going to happen to them, and that's what tips John over the edge.
He didn't ask for this, for any of this. He didn't ask for the Ancient gene everyone and their mother seems to want to get their hand on. He didn't ask for the SGC to steal him away to their top secret base buried under a mountain, and he sure as hell didn't ask for a team. For two idiots who probably don't trust him to keep them alive but will still follow his orders because that's what they've been trained to do, and what feels like a new scientist on every goddamn mission they go on, and thank god this time time it's Carter, but John has had enough. He's not about to let his team, his men die for something so fucking stupid and wrong.
Carter must see it, because her expression turns sharp and dangerous, shoulders going back like she's getting ready to fight, and goddamn, John didn't want this. He never wanted this.
"Don't mind me," Lorne says, and he's smiling, almost laughing at them. "'I'll just be over here."
Carter's head jerks around to stare at Lorne, almost as though she'd forgotten he was there. John watches as the anger drains out of her, shoulders relaxing. John knows, even before she turns back to look at him that he's finished at the SGC, but he was pretty sure that would have been true even if they'd somehow managed to succeed in their mission. John sighs, forcing himself to relax and goes back to the spot he'd been sitting in before Lorne had come to get him. He ignores the looks Henderson and Williams are giving him, quiet and watchful, and pulls the tennis ball out of his pocket, turning it around a few time before he starts bouncing it at the force field, settling in to wait for whatever comes next.
====
====
Weir sends for him late in the afternoon the next day, and when he gets to her office McKay and two other people there as well. They're all tense, worried, and the moment John steps in the room with Lorne at his back, all eyes go to him, like he has the solution to whatever problem they're faced with.
"Major Sheppard," Weir says, indicating the others with a flick of her hand, "Teyla Emmagan and Ronon Dex."
John nods at them, belatedly recognizing them from the SGC files. Alien refugees who chose to remain with the expedition, and members of the lead gate team, along with Lorne and McKay.
"Is there a problem?" John asks, completely aware of the way Emmagan and Dex have moved closer to McKay. They obviously know why the Odyssey is in Pegasus, why Carter and the rest of John's team are locked up in Atlantis' brig, and aren't about to take chances with McKay.
Weir studies him for a long moment, expression unreadable. "One of our gate teams is in trouble, Major, and Rodney thinks - "
"We need you," McKay says, everything about him unhappy with the situation, almost as though it actually pains him to get the words out. "There's an Ancient device and, well, quite frankly, you're still the strongest gene carrier we've seen, aside from O'Neill."
John almost, almost smiles at that. "And O'Neill just happens to be in another galaxy at the moment."
McKay jerks his head up, jaw clenched. He knows John's messing with him, with them.
"Major," Weir's voice is quiet, a warning and reminder, both. "I can't order you to do this, but I will ask."
And that. That actually brings John up short because he wasn't expecting that. Weir and the expedition have John exactly where they want him, they're holding John's life and the lives of Carter, his team, everyone on the Odyssey in the palms of their hands, and they're giving him a choice.
He's not looking at McKay or the others head on, but he can see McKay go red at that, with anger or god knows what, but he doesn't say anything. Doesn't demand or threaten, just. Nothing. Emmagan and Dex are quiet, unmoving, but there's the promise of action in the way they're standing, and Lorne. Lorne's watching John, waiting to see what his decision's going to be, just like Weir.
They're offering him a choice, John realizes, and it feels like the first one he's been given in a long time, maybe the first.
====
====
John knows he's pretty much screwed when McKay comes into the quarters they've assigned him with a big grin on his face as he tells him Earth is letting them keep him, like he's some sort of pet, and why not? Thanks to his gene he can do tricks for them, make Ancient gadgets and devices light up. There's a nasty little twist of bitterness mixed in with the surprise and resignation because of course, of course he wouldn't get a choice about this. Or course the SGC would make it for him.
"...Sheppard?"
John looks up to see McKay eying him strangely.
"Is that, I mean - " McKay coughs and looks away, wringing his hands nervously. "That is, if you want to go back to Earth with Carter and the Odyssey," there's a definite down-twist to his mouth, obvious distaste in his tone, "then I'm sure that can be arranged as well, it's just." McKay shrugs, eyes darting to John and away again so fast john almost doesn't catch it. "I meant what I said before," he says, almost mumbles. "About liking it here. Despite the constant threat of horrible, painful death, this is Atlantis."
John can't help the smile because McKay actually sounds awed, reverent. Like he can't believe, even after all this time, that he's here, in another galaxy, living in an alien city on an alien world, and god help him, John understands.
His eyes go to the balcony overlooking the city where he can see Atlantis' towers shining bright and beautiful, and if he tries hard enough, he can picture the see the Ancient warship in orbit over the planet in his mind, big and beautiful and deadly, standing watch over the planet and its people.
He keeps thinking about Earth, and everything waiting for him back there, all the pain and sorrow and regret. The missed chances and roads not taken, every bad decision, even if it was the right one, the only one he could make at the time. He keeps thinking about Atlantis and the people here. Weir, McKay. Emmagan and Dex, and fucking Lorne. All of them. He thinks about how they gave him a choice, a chance, even though they knew who, what he was. Even the SGC hadn't done that for him, although he's starting to think that's what O'Neill had been trying to do, before everything had gone to hell and the Ori started closing in on Earth.
"Yeah, okay," John says, like it's being torn from him. He's terrified he's making another bad decision, one that will do worse than brand hm a disgrace, an outcast. One that might finally break him, but he's already walked away from this before, and knows this isn't something he can walk away from again. "I'll stay."