drabble request: Displaced
angelofmercy wanted Team Lorne temporarily on Earth, to which my response was that that was Prodigal. She said okay, more Team Lorne on Earth. This is technically in the Prodigal universe, but only if you squint because I can't do anything without a logical pretext.
Displaced
1100 words
Considering how much time they've spent together over the past few years and in what circumstances, there's an odd reserve, almost a shyness, to their early interactions. They're not in Pegasus anymore and all of the ways they've learned to accommodate their sometimes-bizarre circumstances no longer apply. The faces may be familiar, but the parameters are not the same.
It's not that they're different people on Earth, except maybe they are. They are no longer unmoored from everything and everyone they hold dear, no longer disconnected from all of the little things they once took for granted even in the heat of battle. Aspects of their personalities, habits, and pecadillos that were dormant in Pegasus are awakened now that they are back on Earth. Their tiny little comfort zone that once stretched only as far as themselves now instead covers the whole planet. They are people now, out of uniform, even as they are performing military actions, and out of the context by which they've always known each other.
For the first time, they witness each other's interactions with true civilians, strangers and loved ones who've never heard of a stargate and to whom they have to lie about what they do and where and why. They see first-hand what sort of choices they make when allowed to make choices -- what to eat, what to wear, what to watch on television, how to comport themselves in public and in private. It takes some getting used to.
The way Ortilla transforms as he talks to his son on the phone every night is not a surprise; the sudden reassertion of his New York-centric biases maybe is. Lorne had never really considered Manny one of those kinds of New Yorkers, but apparently he is. Reletti and Suarez are alternately amused and frustrated by Manny's disdain at what the rest of the country considers to be metropolitan sophistication, his outright refusal to cross the threshold into any pizzeria outside of Greater NYC, and the way he's always suspicious of the chatty friendliness of servers, clerks, or passing strangers on the street in a way he never is with locals in Pegasus. Suarez points out that Manny spent years living in and around Lejeune and should stop acting like he just got off a plane from Manhattan, especially because he's not from Manhattan. Ortilla tells him to go fuck himself and Manhattan doesn't have an airport.
Yoni is ever himself. All of his quirks and issues and peculiarities are, for better and for worse, easily translatable. Lorne's hung out with him on Earth before, but the marines are totally unsurprised that Yoni is what he is regardless of location. He lived in the States for a few years, so America is not exactly a foreign country to him and his moments of cultural confusion are often as not a result of having been away for the past few years and not a matter of exoticism. The only difference, really, between here and Pegasus is that he now has many long, loud, boisterous phone conversations with various family members; connected to his family, he is an entirely different creature, far more animated, laughing out loud and trying to out-talk whoever is on the other end of the line. Lorne doesn't think he's the only one who wonders what Yoni's doing by keeping himself so far from home.
Along that line, Suarez is... relieved. Back on Earth, he's almost giddy with being surrounded by the familiar and a much larger personality. He's more of a talker on Earth, more assertive, less reluctant to share an opinion or make a decision without deferring to anyone else. His confidence bleeds through into everything he does, which includes hitting on waitresses and installing himself as their main driver because, in his opinion, Ortilla isn't very good at it and Reletti drives like an old lady. (After Yoni's first time behind the wheel, nobody's eager for a repeat, despite his insistence that he's perfectly average for an Israeli. And while Suarez hasn't had any open or veiled criticisms of Lorne's driving, Lorne doesn't like driving enough to do more than take the occasional shift.) Suarez in Pegasus is a fine warrior, but Suarez on Earth is much more like the leader of marines he'd once been. It's not that he doesn't belong in Pegasus, Lorne realizes; it's that he does belong here.
Reletti, on the other hand, is the one most likely to be confused for an alien. His flakiness, which had ebbed somewhat in Pegasus, returns full force back on Earth. Out of uniform (if not quite off-duty), he's absent-minded and frequently distracted; they have to stop at a drugstore in almost every city because he's lost his toothbrush or his razor. He's also the reason their food runs take forever, since someone has to track him down in whatever aisle he's wandered off to to look for local specialties like a brand of soda or some kind of junk food. They also briefly lose him when he disappears into a used bookstore in Manassas while he was supposed to be buying new undershirts. But his good-natured inattention is hard to get annoyed at (although Suarez and Ortilla do their best to fake it) and it is, apparently, not unappealing. One of the waitresses Suarez is hitting on slips her number to Reletti... who doesn't realize it until they're already a half-hour out of town the next morning.
Out of the five of them, Lorne's got the most experience moving between the shadowy world of the Stargate Program and the 'real world,' which is a critical advantage right now because he's the one carrying the burden of maintaining that barrier. He knows the others are watching him closely, but how much of that curiosity comes from the chance to see him playing civilian or because of what else is involved, he doesn't know. He's content to let the others make the most of their freedom, leaving his 'command decisions' to exactly that, except for the odd time when he puts his foot down to yet another diner dinner or stops an argument about the car radio before it escalates. He can hold the reins of leadership much more loosely here, which should maybe be odd considering the mission but is not, and that, in its own way, is his relaxation. He can spend time alone (or, as alone as he can get these days, which is actually pretty alone), he can blend in to a crowd without having to watch his back -- or have the marines surreptitiously watching it for him -- and he's actually pretty content with that.
Displaced
1100 words
Considering how much time they've spent together over the past few years and in what circumstances, there's an odd reserve, almost a shyness, to their early interactions. They're not in Pegasus anymore and all of the ways they've learned to accommodate their sometimes-bizarre circumstances no longer apply. The faces may be familiar, but the parameters are not the same.
It's not that they're different people on Earth, except maybe they are. They are no longer unmoored from everything and everyone they hold dear, no longer disconnected from all of the little things they once took for granted even in the heat of battle. Aspects of their personalities, habits, and pecadillos that were dormant in Pegasus are awakened now that they are back on Earth. Their tiny little comfort zone that once stretched only as far as themselves now instead covers the whole planet. They are people now, out of uniform, even as they are performing military actions, and out of the context by which they've always known each other.
For the first time, they witness each other's interactions with true civilians, strangers and loved ones who've never heard of a stargate and to whom they have to lie about what they do and where and why. They see first-hand what sort of choices they make when allowed to make choices -- what to eat, what to wear, what to watch on television, how to comport themselves in public and in private. It takes some getting used to.
The way Ortilla transforms as he talks to his son on the phone every night is not a surprise; the sudden reassertion of his New York-centric biases maybe is. Lorne had never really considered Manny one of those kinds of New Yorkers, but apparently he is. Reletti and Suarez are alternately amused and frustrated by Manny's disdain at what the rest of the country considers to be metropolitan sophistication, his outright refusal to cross the threshold into any pizzeria outside of Greater NYC, and the way he's always suspicious of the chatty friendliness of servers, clerks, or passing strangers on the street in a way he never is with locals in Pegasus. Suarez points out that Manny spent years living in and around Lejeune and should stop acting like he just got off a plane from Manhattan, especially because he's not from Manhattan. Ortilla tells him to go fuck himself and Manhattan doesn't have an airport.
Yoni is ever himself. All of his quirks and issues and peculiarities are, for better and for worse, easily translatable. Lorne's hung out with him on Earth before, but the marines are totally unsurprised that Yoni is what he is regardless of location. He lived in the States for a few years, so America is not exactly a foreign country to him and his moments of cultural confusion are often as not a result of having been away for the past few years and not a matter of exoticism. The only difference, really, between here and Pegasus is that he now has many long, loud, boisterous phone conversations with various family members; connected to his family, he is an entirely different creature, far more animated, laughing out loud and trying to out-talk whoever is on the other end of the line. Lorne doesn't think he's the only one who wonders what Yoni's doing by keeping himself so far from home.
Along that line, Suarez is... relieved. Back on Earth, he's almost giddy with being surrounded by the familiar and a much larger personality. He's more of a talker on Earth, more assertive, less reluctant to share an opinion or make a decision without deferring to anyone else. His confidence bleeds through into everything he does, which includes hitting on waitresses and installing himself as their main driver because, in his opinion, Ortilla isn't very good at it and Reletti drives like an old lady. (After Yoni's first time behind the wheel, nobody's eager for a repeat, despite his insistence that he's perfectly average for an Israeli. And while Suarez hasn't had any open or veiled criticisms of Lorne's driving, Lorne doesn't like driving enough to do more than take the occasional shift.) Suarez in Pegasus is a fine warrior, but Suarez on Earth is much more like the leader of marines he'd once been. It's not that he doesn't belong in Pegasus, Lorne realizes; it's that he does belong here.
Reletti, on the other hand, is the one most likely to be confused for an alien. His flakiness, which had ebbed somewhat in Pegasus, returns full force back on Earth. Out of uniform (if not quite off-duty), he's absent-minded and frequently distracted; they have to stop at a drugstore in almost every city because he's lost his toothbrush or his razor. He's also the reason their food runs take forever, since someone has to track him down in whatever aisle he's wandered off to to look for local specialties like a brand of soda or some kind of junk food. They also briefly lose him when he disappears into a used bookstore in Manassas while he was supposed to be buying new undershirts. But his good-natured inattention is hard to get annoyed at (although Suarez and Ortilla do their best to fake it) and it is, apparently, not unappealing. One of the waitresses Suarez is hitting on slips her number to Reletti... who doesn't realize it until they're already a half-hour out of town the next morning.
Out of the five of them, Lorne's got the most experience moving between the shadowy world of the Stargate Program and the 'real world,' which is a critical advantage right now because he's the one carrying the burden of maintaining that barrier. He knows the others are watching him closely, but how much of that curiosity comes from the chance to see him playing civilian or because of what else is involved, he doesn't know. He's content to let the others make the most of their freedom, leaving his 'command decisions' to exactly that, except for the odd time when he puts his foot down to yet another diner dinner or stops an argument about the car radio before it escalates. He can hold the reins of leadership much more loosely here, which should maybe be odd considering the mission but is not, and that, in its own way, is his relaxation. He can spend time alone (or, as alone as he can get these days, which is actually pretty alone), he can blend in to a crowd without having to watch his back -- or have the marines surreptitiously watching it for him -- and he's actually pretty content with that.