Fic Post!
Weeell, so I haven't gotten any further with "Red Room". Still waiting for more inspiration to strike. But in the meantime, I was accidentally given an idea by the-Bookworm-Princess and came up with this, which she kindly agreed to beta as well. I started this one three different ways before coming up with this version, which is by far my favorite. It's not a very happy story, I'll warn you now. If you choose to continue anyway, enjoy! Oh, and it's rated K+, basically for theme. Ha, I forgot to mention the fandom, didn't I? Sorry. It's totally SGA. Shep-centric.
The Wisdom of Youth
John Sheppard rolled out of bed, groaning as his aching joints protested. He wondered briefly why everything was so blurry, before remembering the glasses on his nightstand. He still hadn’t gotten used to wearing them. He made his way slowly toward the bathroom, scrubbing a tired hand over the considerable growth on his cheeks. Maybe today he would finally be able to shave, be able to look at himself in the mirror.
Then again, maybe not. Averting his eyes from the glass, he slammed a fist against the wall angrily. The action caused more damage to his hand than the strong Ancient walls, and he scowled at his swollen knuckles. There was nowhere he could look to escape reminders of his change, his weakness. It was in the eyes of others, in their pity and revulsion; it was in the way he struggled to do simple tasks he’d always taken for granted; it was in his very hands, gnarled and spotted and veined.
He dressed as quickly as he could, trying not to think. That had been the best solution so far, to simply shut his mind off and think of nothing. He walked to the ’gate room, his gear weighing far more than he remembered. Today would be his first mission since the incident. He was determined.
“John,” Elizabeth greeted, surprised, as he mustered all his strength to stride confidently into the wide room. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m going on the mission,” he told her matter-of-factly.
Her eyes widened but she maintained her composure. “Are you sure that’s such a good idea? What does Carson thi-?”
“It’s not Carson’s choice,” Sheppard growled. “I’m fine, Elizabeth. I’m as fit as ever and I need to get back in the saddle sometime. No time like the present,” he finished, attempting to lighten the mood with his trademark smirk. It didn’t work.
“I’m not sure…” she began, eyeing the way he struggled to stand upright against the weight of his equipment.
“Ah, Elizabeth, there you are!” McKay called, hustling toward her as he tucked some last minute provisions into his vest pockets. “I just wan-” He stopped short, staring at Sheppard as if seeing a ghost. Of all of them, McKay had had the most difficulty adjusting to the change - besides Sheppard himself, of course. “Oh. Colonel Sheppard. You’re…you’re coming with us, then?”
“Yes,” Sheppard answered at the same time as Elizabeth said, “No.” He rounded on her. “Elizabeth!”
“You’re not as strong as you used to be, John,” she explained. “And even aside from that, who knows what else may have changed?”
“You’re saying I’m unstable? Unreliable?” he challenged, his voice rising. “Why don’t you just send me back on the Daedalus, then? I’m useless here, unless you let me go out there!”
“If I may,” McKay put in, looking distinctly uncomfortable and refusing to meet Sheppard’s eye. “It is a fairly routine trading mission. Colonel Sheppard’s, er, training may not even be particularly necessary…”
“Rodney,” Elizabeth addressed him with a wry smile playing at her lips, “just how many ‘routine trading missions’ have actually ended up being routine?”
“Yes, well,” he muttered, shrugging.
“I can’t let you go,” Elizabeth decided. “It’s too much of a risk.”
“I’m the senior military officer,” Sheppard tried desperately, playing the one card left to him. “And I say this team needs a military escort: me.”
Elizabeth gave him a long look, somewhere between disappointment and worry, and said softly, “If that’s your decision.”
“It is,” he replied, probably a little too forcefully. He was pressing his luck with his attitude, he knew. If she’d wanted to, she could easily have challenged him; his apparent ingratitude would not win him any favors. She didn’t look angry, though, just kept that same expression that made her look far older than her years. Look who’s talking, he thought angrily.
xxxxxxxxxx
Sheppard was thrilled to be back in the field. He was a man of action and sitting around Atlantis all day was not his idea of a good time. He yearned to fly a jumper again, feel the craft respond to his very thoughts, see the awe-inspiring wonder of deep space up close and personal. It would have to wait, however. This was an overland mission, since the main village was only a fifteen-minute trek through open fields. It wasn’t at all unpleasant and Sheppard reveled in the feel of the breeze in his hair, the smell of various wildflowers, the sound of wind swishing through the tall grass.
They reached the village quickly and Teyla greeted a young boy at the outskirts, instructing him to fetch the chieftain. The boy scampered off but as they waited, three village women walked past them with baskets full of some type of fruit. The ladies glanced at the strangers and whispered, giggling, as they batted their lashes. Sheppard grinned; this was familiar turf. He waved at the women but they ignored him. He followed their gazes…to Ronon. Ronon was oblivious and the women soon moved on, still giggling. Sheppard frowned.
It happened twice more after the chieftain arrived and guided them through the village. It seemed to Sheppard like there were women everywhere, going about their everyday lives with coy smiles and coquettish giggles, none of them directed at him. He was invisible.
It wasn’t until he was checking his watch an hour later that it clicked. He stared at the age-spots on his knobby hand, the wispy white hairs sprouting from his finger joints, the rheumatic knuckles. He tightened the offensive hand into a fist, scowling deeply. He hated what he had become, and he hated himself for not being able to accept it.
“Hey, Sheppard, hold this for me?” Sheppard looked up, startled by McKay’s voice. He flinched as McKay’s pack flew toward him, but didn’t react quickly enough to prevent the weighty bag striking his chest solidly. He inhaled sharply, stifling a cry of pain. The pack fell to the ground as Sheppard clutched a hand to his chest, breathing heavily and massaging the sore area. McKay turned at the sound, his eyes widening in horror at Sheppard’s distress. “Oh, God,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean - I didn’t think - I forgot -”
“It’s fine, McKay,” Sheppard managed through gritted teeth. “Don’t worry about it.” Uncomfortable with fabric rubbing his re-aggravated wound, he unbuttoned his shirt. McKay stared at the faint hand-shaped outline before shuddering and turning away.
As he rubbed his aching chest, Sheppard noticed two young boys standing nearby, watching him with wide eyes. He waved, trying to be friendly, though his simple action caused the younger boy to duck shyly behind his friend. The older boy, however, seemed emboldened by Sheppard’s display of amity and approached the pilot confidently.
“Hey, kids,” Sheppard greeted. The smaller child again hid behind his companion.
“Elder,” the older boy began respectfully. “I am Tavian and this is my brother, Dekker.”
“Nice to meet you.” Sheppard shook Tavian’s hand, the boy’s brow furrowing in confusion. “Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard.”
“Grandfather Sheppard,” Tavian addressed him, again with deep respect. “Would you tell us a story?” Sheppard blinked. The boys stared at him in anticipation, still wide-eyed, Tavian curious and Dekker fearful.
“A story?” Sheppard repeated, unsure what they wanted. Teyla heard him and hurried over, greeting the boys. They returned her greeting politely but their attention was still fixed on Sheppard.
“Colonel Sheppard,” she explained. “This culture harbors a deep respect for their elders. These boys request you share some wisdom with them.”
“Wisdom, huh?” He nodded thoughtfully. “Well, in the wisdom department, you probably want Teyla here. She’d be happy to tell you a story.”
“She is not an elder,” Tavian objected. “You are a White Hair, a true follower of wisdom.”
Sheppard’s heart sank but he nodded slowly. “All right. Have a seat. I’m going to tell you a story about a man, and a Wraith, and the brave friends who rescued the man just when he was sure he was going to die…”
xxxxxxxxxx
The rest of the mission progressed uneventfully, strangely enough, and the team headed back to the ’gate just as dusk was descending on the village. Tavian and Dekker, who had attached themselves to Sheppard, would have followed them all the way to the ’gate but for their father, who was reluctant to let them wander outside after dark. As it was, they said goodbye at the edge of the village, bowing reverently to Sheppard and presenting him with a small bundle of what turned out to be bread and a cheese-like substance.
“Looks like the cocky pilot’s got himself another fan club,” McKay groused. “At least this one’s a Boy Scout troop and not a harem.” Noticing Sheppard’s troubled expression, McKay stopped and the team continued to the ’gate in silence.
When they reached Atlantis, Sheppard headed immediately for Elizabeth’s office. She looked surprised to see him but put her paperwork aside and welcomed him in. He took a seat, heavily, and sighed. This was going to be difficult.
“How did it go?” she asked politely. He couldn’t tell if she was waiting to say ‘I told you so’ or if she was genuinely interested. Probably the latter; Elizabeth was always genuinely interested.
“Fine,” he shrugged.
“‘Fine’?” she repeated, raising her eyebrows.
“Fine,” he confirmed. “Nothing happened. We met the people, did a little talking, came to an agreement, and left. Uneventful.”
“Then, if you don’t mind my asking,” she started, her mouth twisting into a wry question mark, “why are you here?”
“Right,” he sighed. “Yeah. Okay. I think…I think I need to…retire.” He squeezed his eyes shut as he said it, as if that might make his problem go away.
“John,” Elizabeth said, surprised. “Are you sure? It’s only been one mission…”
He shook his head. “Everything’s different, Elizabeth. The team can’t look at me, can’t talk to me. Out there today, not one woman even glanced at me. I know that’s not important,” he precluded her objection, “but it’s just, I don’t know, like a small part of the bigger picture. Two kids came up to me today, wanted me to tell them a story - because I’m supposed to have wisdom. Because I’m old. I don’t think I can do it, Elizabeth. It’d be different if I actually was 70-whatever, if I had the experiences to go with the body. But I’m not; I’m not even 40. How do I cope with that?”
“I don’t know,” Elizabeth admitted. “But you have friends here, John. We can help you. What will you do back on Earth? You’ll still be older than your years.”
“I know,” he muttered. “But…I don’t know, people here, they look at me like I’m some kind of freak. They knew me before and now I’m different. On Earth, people don’t know me. I’ll be old, yeah, but not freakishly-aged-by-a-man-eating-space-vampire. Maybe I can even look up Colonel Everett,” he added with a ghost of his old grin.
“John,” she said softly, “we need you here.”
He smiled sadly. “No, you don’t.”
“If that’s your decision,” she echoed her words from earlier that day, trying to hold back her tears.
“It is,” he replied, barely above a whisper. He hated it, hated leaving the people who had become his family, hated leaving the adventure he had become so attached to, but he didn’t have a choice. He was a liability here and he would endanger his friends no longer.
He stood, took a deep breath, and walked out the door.
The Wisdom of Youth
John Sheppard rolled out of bed, groaning as his aching joints protested. He wondered briefly why everything was so blurry, before remembering the glasses on his nightstand. He still hadn’t gotten used to wearing them. He made his way slowly toward the bathroom, scrubbing a tired hand over the considerable growth on his cheeks. Maybe today he would finally be able to shave, be able to look at himself in the mirror.
Then again, maybe not. Averting his eyes from the glass, he slammed a fist against the wall angrily. The action caused more damage to his hand than the strong Ancient walls, and he scowled at his swollen knuckles. There was nowhere he could look to escape reminders of his change, his weakness. It was in the eyes of others, in their pity and revulsion; it was in the way he struggled to do simple tasks he’d always taken for granted; it was in his very hands, gnarled and spotted and veined.
He dressed as quickly as he could, trying not to think. That had been the best solution so far, to simply shut his mind off and think of nothing. He walked to the ’gate room, his gear weighing far more than he remembered. Today would be his first mission since the incident. He was determined.
“John,” Elizabeth greeted, surprised, as he mustered all his strength to stride confidently into the wide room. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m going on the mission,” he told her matter-of-factly.
Her eyes widened but she maintained her composure. “Are you sure that’s such a good idea? What does Carson thi-?”
“It’s not Carson’s choice,” Sheppard growled. “I’m fine, Elizabeth. I’m as fit as ever and I need to get back in the saddle sometime. No time like the present,” he finished, attempting to lighten the mood with his trademark smirk. It didn’t work.
“I’m not sure…” she began, eyeing the way he struggled to stand upright against the weight of his equipment.
“Ah, Elizabeth, there you are!” McKay called, hustling toward her as he tucked some last minute provisions into his vest pockets. “I just wan-” He stopped short, staring at Sheppard as if seeing a ghost. Of all of them, McKay had had the most difficulty adjusting to the change - besides Sheppard himself, of course. “Oh. Colonel Sheppard. You’re…you’re coming with us, then?”
“Yes,” Sheppard answered at the same time as Elizabeth said, “No.” He rounded on her. “Elizabeth!”
“You’re not as strong as you used to be, John,” she explained. “And even aside from that, who knows what else may have changed?”
“You’re saying I’m unstable? Unreliable?” he challenged, his voice rising. “Why don’t you just send me back on the Daedalus, then? I’m useless here, unless you let me go out there!”
“If I may,” McKay put in, looking distinctly uncomfortable and refusing to meet Sheppard’s eye. “It is a fairly routine trading mission. Colonel Sheppard’s, er, training may not even be particularly necessary…”
“Rodney,” Elizabeth addressed him with a wry smile playing at her lips, “just how many ‘routine trading missions’ have actually ended up being routine?”
“Yes, well,” he muttered, shrugging.
“I can’t let you go,” Elizabeth decided. “It’s too much of a risk.”
“I’m the senior military officer,” Sheppard tried desperately, playing the one card left to him. “And I say this team needs a military escort: me.”
Elizabeth gave him a long look, somewhere between disappointment and worry, and said softly, “If that’s your decision.”
“It is,” he replied, probably a little too forcefully. He was pressing his luck with his attitude, he knew. If she’d wanted to, she could easily have challenged him; his apparent ingratitude would not win him any favors. She didn’t look angry, though, just kept that same expression that made her look far older than her years. Look who’s talking, he thought angrily.
xxxxxxxxxx
Sheppard was thrilled to be back in the field. He was a man of action and sitting around Atlantis all day was not his idea of a good time. He yearned to fly a jumper again, feel the craft respond to his very thoughts, see the awe-inspiring wonder of deep space up close and personal. It would have to wait, however. This was an overland mission, since the main village was only a fifteen-minute trek through open fields. It wasn’t at all unpleasant and Sheppard reveled in the feel of the breeze in his hair, the smell of various wildflowers, the sound of wind swishing through the tall grass.
They reached the village quickly and Teyla greeted a young boy at the outskirts, instructing him to fetch the chieftain. The boy scampered off but as they waited, three village women walked past them with baskets full of some type of fruit. The ladies glanced at the strangers and whispered, giggling, as they batted their lashes. Sheppard grinned; this was familiar turf. He waved at the women but they ignored him. He followed their gazes…to Ronon. Ronon was oblivious and the women soon moved on, still giggling. Sheppard frowned.
It happened twice more after the chieftain arrived and guided them through the village. It seemed to Sheppard like there were women everywhere, going about their everyday lives with coy smiles and coquettish giggles, none of them directed at him. He was invisible.
It wasn’t until he was checking his watch an hour later that it clicked. He stared at the age-spots on his knobby hand, the wispy white hairs sprouting from his finger joints, the rheumatic knuckles. He tightened the offensive hand into a fist, scowling deeply. He hated what he had become, and he hated himself for not being able to accept it.
“Hey, Sheppard, hold this for me?” Sheppard looked up, startled by McKay’s voice. He flinched as McKay’s pack flew toward him, but didn’t react quickly enough to prevent the weighty bag striking his chest solidly. He inhaled sharply, stifling a cry of pain. The pack fell to the ground as Sheppard clutched a hand to his chest, breathing heavily and massaging the sore area. McKay turned at the sound, his eyes widening in horror at Sheppard’s distress. “Oh, God,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean - I didn’t think - I forgot -”
“It’s fine, McKay,” Sheppard managed through gritted teeth. “Don’t worry about it.” Uncomfortable with fabric rubbing his re-aggravated wound, he unbuttoned his shirt. McKay stared at the faint hand-shaped outline before shuddering and turning away.
As he rubbed his aching chest, Sheppard noticed two young boys standing nearby, watching him with wide eyes. He waved, trying to be friendly, though his simple action caused the younger boy to duck shyly behind his friend. The older boy, however, seemed emboldened by Sheppard’s display of amity and approached the pilot confidently.
“Hey, kids,” Sheppard greeted. The smaller child again hid behind his companion.
“Elder,” the older boy began respectfully. “I am Tavian and this is my brother, Dekker.”
“Nice to meet you.” Sheppard shook Tavian’s hand, the boy’s brow furrowing in confusion. “Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard.”
“Grandfather Sheppard,” Tavian addressed him, again with deep respect. “Would you tell us a story?” Sheppard blinked. The boys stared at him in anticipation, still wide-eyed, Tavian curious and Dekker fearful.
“A story?” Sheppard repeated, unsure what they wanted. Teyla heard him and hurried over, greeting the boys. They returned her greeting politely but their attention was still fixed on Sheppard.
“Colonel Sheppard,” she explained. “This culture harbors a deep respect for their elders. These boys request you share some wisdom with them.”
“Wisdom, huh?” He nodded thoughtfully. “Well, in the wisdom department, you probably want Teyla here. She’d be happy to tell you a story.”
“She is not an elder,” Tavian objected. “You are a White Hair, a true follower of wisdom.”
Sheppard’s heart sank but he nodded slowly. “All right. Have a seat. I’m going to tell you a story about a man, and a Wraith, and the brave friends who rescued the man just when he was sure he was going to die…”
xxxxxxxxxx
The rest of the mission progressed uneventfully, strangely enough, and the team headed back to the ’gate just as dusk was descending on the village. Tavian and Dekker, who had attached themselves to Sheppard, would have followed them all the way to the ’gate but for their father, who was reluctant to let them wander outside after dark. As it was, they said goodbye at the edge of the village, bowing reverently to Sheppard and presenting him with a small bundle of what turned out to be bread and a cheese-like substance.
“Looks like the cocky pilot’s got himself another fan club,” McKay groused. “At least this one’s a Boy Scout troop and not a harem.” Noticing Sheppard’s troubled expression, McKay stopped and the team continued to the ’gate in silence.
When they reached Atlantis, Sheppard headed immediately for Elizabeth’s office. She looked surprised to see him but put her paperwork aside and welcomed him in. He took a seat, heavily, and sighed. This was going to be difficult.
“How did it go?” she asked politely. He couldn’t tell if she was waiting to say ‘I told you so’ or if she was genuinely interested. Probably the latter; Elizabeth was always genuinely interested.
“Fine,” he shrugged.
“‘Fine’?” she repeated, raising her eyebrows.
“Fine,” he confirmed. “Nothing happened. We met the people, did a little talking, came to an agreement, and left. Uneventful.”
“Then, if you don’t mind my asking,” she started, her mouth twisting into a wry question mark, “why are you here?”
“Right,” he sighed. “Yeah. Okay. I think…I think I need to…retire.” He squeezed his eyes shut as he said it, as if that might make his problem go away.
“John,” Elizabeth said, surprised. “Are you sure? It’s only been one mission…”
He shook his head. “Everything’s different, Elizabeth. The team can’t look at me, can’t talk to me. Out there today, not one woman even glanced at me. I know that’s not important,” he precluded her objection, “but it’s just, I don’t know, like a small part of the bigger picture. Two kids came up to me today, wanted me to tell them a story - because I’m supposed to have wisdom. Because I’m old. I don’t think I can do it, Elizabeth. It’d be different if I actually was 70-whatever, if I had the experiences to go with the body. But I’m not; I’m not even 40. How do I cope with that?”
“I don’t know,” Elizabeth admitted. “But you have friends here, John. We can help you. What will you do back on Earth? You’ll still be older than your years.”
“I know,” he muttered. “But…I don’t know, people here, they look at me like I’m some kind of freak. They knew me before and now I’m different. On Earth, people don’t know me. I’ll be old, yeah, but not freakishly-aged-by-a-man-eating-space-vampire. Maybe I can even look up Colonel Everett,” he added with a ghost of his old grin.
“John,” she said softly, “we need you here.”
He smiled sadly. “No, you don’t.”
“If that’s your decision,” she echoed her words from earlier that day, trying to hold back her tears.
“It is,” he replied, barely above a whisper. He hated it, hated leaving the people who had become his family, hated leaving the adventure he had become so attached to, but he didn’t have a choice. He was a liability here and he would endanger his friends no longer.
He stood, took a deep breath, and walked out the door.