Fringe, Sanctuary, Stargate Drabbles - Colours
Her hair had surprised him. No matter how he pictured Olivia, she was blonde. Strong, beautiful and intelligent, but blonde. This one strode into the room with enough confidence to stand up to any challenge, but given that the room currently housed the Secretary of Defence and his long-lost son, she didn’t dare act as if she owned it. That too had surprised him. Olivia was always sure of herself, but never…overconfident. The woman before him was cocky, a gunslinger, more a soldier than an agent. Her clothes were different as well. Gone were the crisp professional white shirts and black jackets. Black shirts and cargo pants were intimidating, but somehow less severe.
He took in all these differences in a fraction of a second. He weighed this Olivia with the other Olivia and explained away what differences he could.
But no matter which way he locked at it, her hair should not be red.
Orange (Sanctuary)
Everywhere she looked there were bright splashes of colour. It adorned walls and pots and clothing. She was surprised that those who lived here their whole lives did not go blind. But, she supposed, they were used to it.
Her father, after a careful blend of logical arguments, yelling, whining and pleading, had taken her to India. He went on the trip for his work, something he never dared discuss with her, and would be staying for three months. And while Helen was of an age that she could be reasonably expected to be presented to society, she had adamantly told her father that her future efforts were to be in academia and not the raising of a family. On further argument, she had said that any man who dared to court her was courting death, and any attempts to hinder her in intellectual pursuits would simply be damaging to the future she had decided on. Eventually, he had given up in exasperation.
It was there, in India, that she saw the saffron buildings, the light brown skin of the people, the bright orange embroidery, she decided she would see more of the world, whether society wished her to or not.
It was as she saw the orange robes of the monks, presiding over a dead man’s body, when she decided to be a doctor.
Yellow (Sanctuary)
They were sitting in a meadow, of vivid colours. Green and brown of differing hues. But they simply acted as a background, the true brightness coming from the sunlight and the dandelions. And Ashley, running about in a bright yellow dress, flowers in hand, golden hair flying out behind her and a smile lighting her face.
John looked at them both from the shadows. Watching the two most important girls in his life as they played among the flowers, making chains and crowns of the flowers that dusted the field like a delicate lace.
Helen was the only one not utterly content. The fact that they were so happy caused her heartache. Because John was never that calm. Because green was never that deep, brown never that warm. Because daisies were horrible for making chains and it was all just a dream. Because Ashley would have been twenty four tomorrow and she hated that yellow dress.
Green (Fringe)
She palmed the note in her hand, preparing to pay for her coffee. It was familiar coffee from her favourite store, and she used a twenty to pay for it simply because she could. They were two things that, simultaneously, reminded her of the other side, and enforced that she was not there. She didn’t have to live with strictly rationed coffee, and the twenty had the right person on it.
Using notes to pay for anything over there was rare. Everyone’s ‘show-me’ doubled as a debit card, it was simply more convenient than paying cash. And even if you did, the notes were multicoloured and of varying size, she almost forgot which to use.
So now, she got a secret pleasure from paying with cash. She liked knowing she had it on her. She wasn’t a miser with money, greedy or shallow, that wasn’t what this was about. This was about knowing where she was, in her comfort zone, with uniformly green notes to pay for her coffee.
Blue (Stargate SG-1)
Sam looked at the sky above her. There wasn’t a cloud in sight. The sun was beating down with enough intensity that it was warm, but not unbearable, and she would have plenty of light to work with for hours. But that wasn’t what she was looking at.
“Looking for something Carter?” Jack’s voice carried the tone that said ‘Hurry up and work so we can get of this godforsaken dessert planet ASAP’
“It’s blue sir.” She said, not sure how to phrase what she wanted to stay, choosing instead the simplest alternative.
He joined her in looking up. “You know, we have one of those on earth. A blue sky.” His reply was snarky, but most of what he said was.
“You know that’s not what I mean. It’s…blue.” He did know what she meant. The sky was not the pale, washed-out blue of their own world. It was a startling electric blue. “There are special particles in the atmosphere that scatter the light…”
Seeing that Sam had fallen back on technobabble, he zoned out and contented himself with examining how the blue sky only managed to lighten the blue in her eyes.
Purple (Sanctuary)
Helen Magnus always had flowers in her office. It was something not questioned, simply accepted, by her staff. They were there to brighten up a cold winter day, or perfume the air in summer, but they were always there.
Today, the flowers were purple, lavender, to be exact. While she loved to walk into her office of a morning and see elaborate arrangements of tropical flowers that the Big Guy had so painstakingly worked on, she got just as much pleasure from walking into a room that looked, and smelt, like a field of lavender.
Of course, her never dared the monotony of having simply one kind of flower, so while lavender was the most predominant, there were scatterings of violets and geraniums. And on her desk, a single purple rose.
Deep adoration, majesty, opulence.mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-theme-font:
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She had a feeling that this was not from the Big Guy. It was, after all, not the first time that she received a rose of this particular hue. She had been given many over the years, from one person in particular. It was a code between them. He would give her pink roses when they were courting. Happiness, sweetness, romance. Red roses after their first time together. Passion, love, respect. White roses during their short engagement. Innocence, secrecy, reverence. And a single black rose, and a few drops of blood, on her pillow the night after she shot him. Death, hatred, revenge, sorrow, mourning, rare and profound love.
But, no this was a purple rose, identical to the first he had ever given her.
Love at first sight.
Pink (Stargate SG-1)
It was a pink jacket. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around it. Sam, in a pink jacket. Sam in a pink anything. It was like seeing a flamingo that was green. Now, that was a colour he was used to seeing her in. Green, and blue, and black. But no, she was wearing pink.
“Sir?” She asked like she didn’t know what he was doing, of why he had stopped dead when he saw her. Dressed in a pink jacket.
“You’re wearing pink.”
She looked down at her clothes. “Yes, yes I am.” She smiled. “I was just heading off to take Cassie to a movie”. She said that like she always left base wearing pink. He cleared his throat and tried to get over the shock of seeing his 2IC wearing pink. But he found nothing to say.
“You didn’t think I never wore bright colours, did you?” She said jokingly, kind of enjoying that Jack O’Neill was, for once, speechless.
“No, I just never thought you wore pink.”
She smiled and looked at her watch. “I’ve gotta go. Seeya tomorrow?”
“Sure.” He watched as she walked down the hallway, whispers following her. So he wasn’t the only one surprised to see her in pink.
But he might have been the only one to truly appreciate how good it looked on her.
He took in all these differences in a fraction of a second. He weighed this Olivia with the other Olivia and explained away what differences he could.
But no matter which way he locked at it, her hair should not be red.
Orange (Sanctuary)
Everywhere she looked there were bright splashes of colour. It adorned walls and pots and clothing. She was surprised that those who lived here their whole lives did not go blind. But, she supposed, they were used to it.
Her father, after a careful blend of logical arguments, yelling, whining and pleading, had taken her to India. He went on the trip for his work, something he never dared discuss with her, and would be staying for three months. And while Helen was of an age that she could be reasonably expected to be presented to society, she had adamantly told her father that her future efforts were to be in academia and not the raising of a family. On further argument, she had said that any man who dared to court her was courting death, and any attempts to hinder her in intellectual pursuits would simply be damaging to the future she had decided on. Eventually, he had given up in exasperation.
It was there, in India, that she saw the saffron buildings, the light brown skin of the people, the bright orange embroidery, she decided she would see more of the world, whether society wished her to or not.
It was as she saw the orange robes of the monks, presiding over a dead man’s body, when she decided to be a doctor.
Yellow (Sanctuary)
They were sitting in a meadow, of vivid colours. Green and brown of differing hues. But they simply acted as a background, the true brightness coming from the sunlight and the dandelions. And Ashley, running about in a bright yellow dress, flowers in hand, golden hair flying out behind her and a smile lighting her face.
John looked at them both from the shadows. Watching the two most important girls in his life as they played among the flowers, making chains and crowns of the flowers that dusted the field like a delicate lace.
Helen was the only one not utterly content. The fact that they were so happy caused her heartache. Because John was never that calm. Because green was never that deep, brown never that warm. Because daisies were horrible for making chains and it was all just a dream. Because Ashley would have been twenty four tomorrow and she hated that yellow dress.
Green (Fringe)
She palmed the note in her hand, preparing to pay for her coffee. It was familiar coffee from her favourite store, and she used a twenty to pay for it simply because she could. They were two things that, simultaneously, reminded her of the other side, and enforced that she was not there. She didn’t have to live with strictly rationed coffee, and the twenty had the right person on it.
Using notes to pay for anything over there was rare. Everyone’s ‘show-me’ doubled as a debit card, it was simply more convenient than paying cash. And even if you did, the notes were multicoloured and of varying size, she almost forgot which to use.
So now, she got a secret pleasure from paying with cash. She liked knowing she had it on her. She wasn’t a miser with money, greedy or shallow, that wasn’t what this was about. This was about knowing where she was, in her comfort zone, with uniformly green notes to pay for her coffee.
Blue (Stargate SG-1)
Sam looked at the sky above her. There wasn’t a cloud in sight. The sun was beating down with enough intensity that it was warm, but not unbearable, and she would have plenty of light to work with for hours. But that wasn’t what she was looking at.
“Looking for something Carter?” Jack’s voice carried the tone that said ‘Hurry up and work so we can get of this godforsaken dessert planet ASAP’
“It’s blue sir.” She said, not sure how to phrase what she wanted to stay, choosing instead the simplest alternative.
He joined her in looking up. “You know, we have one of those on earth. A blue sky.” His reply was snarky, but most of what he said was.
“You know that’s not what I mean. It’s…blue.” He did know what she meant. The sky was not the pale, washed-out blue of their own world. It was a startling electric blue. “There are special particles in the atmosphere that scatter the light…”
Seeing that Sam had fallen back on technobabble, he zoned out and contented himself with examining how the blue sky only managed to lighten the blue in her eyes.
Purple (Sanctuary)
Helen Magnus always had flowers in her office. It was something not questioned, simply accepted, by her staff. They were there to brighten up a cold winter day, or perfume the air in summer, but they were always there.
Today, the flowers were purple, lavender, to be exact. While she loved to walk into her office of a morning and see elaborate arrangements of tropical flowers that the Big Guy had so painstakingly worked on, she got just as much pleasure from walking into a room that looked, and smelt, like a field of lavender.
Of course, her never dared the monotony of having simply one kind of flower, so while lavender was the most predominant, there were scatterings of violets and geraniums. And on her desk, a single purple rose.
Deep adoration, majesty, opulence.mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;mso-bidi-theme-font:
minor-latin;border:none windowtext 1.0pt;mso-border-alt:none windowtext 0cm;
padding:0cm;font-weight:normal;mso-bidi-font-weight:bold;mso-bidi-font-style:
italic">
She had a feeling that this was not from the Big Guy. It was, after all, not the first time that she received a rose of this particular hue. She had been given many over the years, from one person in particular. It was a code between them. He would give her pink roses when they were courting. Happiness, sweetness, romance. Red roses after their first time together. Passion, love, respect. White roses during their short engagement. Innocence, secrecy, reverence. And a single black rose, and a few drops of blood, on her pillow the night after she shot him. Death, hatred, revenge, sorrow, mourning, rare and profound love.
But, no this was a purple rose, identical to the first he had ever given her.
Love at first sight.
Pink (Stargate SG-1)
It was a pink jacket. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around it. Sam, in a pink jacket. Sam in a pink anything. It was like seeing a flamingo that was green. Now, that was a colour he was used to seeing her in. Green, and blue, and black. But no, she was wearing pink.
“Sir?” She asked like she didn’t know what he was doing, of why he had stopped dead when he saw her. Dressed in a pink jacket.
“You’re wearing pink.”
She looked down at her clothes. “Yes, yes I am.” She smiled. “I was just heading off to take Cassie to a movie”. She said that like she always left base wearing pink. He cleared his throat and tried to get over the shock of seeing his 2IC wearing pink. But he found nothing to say.
“You didn’t think I never wore bright colours, did you?” She said jokingly, kind of enjoying that Jack O’Neill was, for once, speechless.
“No, I just never thought you wore pink.”
She smiled and looked at her watch. “I’ve gotta go. Seeya tomorrow?”
“Sure.” He watched as she walked down the hallway, whispers following her. So he wasn’t the only one surprised to see her in pink.
But he might have been the only one to truly appreciate how good it looked on her.