Emergence by Helen W. (Wordless Challenge)
Title: Emergence
Author: Helen W. (wneleh)
Length: ~500 words
Rating/warning: PG-13 for subject matter and language
Major characters: Sheppard, team (gen)
Spoilers: Missing scene for "Conversion"
Standard disclaimers apply.
Emergence
by Helen W.
Cut to Atlantis. In the Infirmary, Beckett comes out from a screened-off area. Weir, Caldwell and Sheppard's team are waiting anxiously for him.]
BECKETT: It's not gonna happen overnight -- you can bet on that -- but the transformation has begun to reverse itself.
CALDWELL: So eventually he'll be back in uniform?
BECKETT: Eventually.
McKAY: Well done, Carson, for once again elevating medicine to actual science.
BECKETT: Well, thank you, Rodney(!)
WEIR: We'll all finally be able to get some sleep. [to Beckett] Keep me posted.
BECKETT: Aye.
[Weir leaves the room and Caldwell follows her. The team doesn't budge.]
DEX: We might, uh ...
TEYLA: ... stay a while.
McKAY: Well, if that's alright.
BECKETT: Of course.
[He walks away. The team looks through the gap in the screens at Sheppard lying unconscious in bed.]
- From “Conversion,” written by Robert C. Cooper and Martin Gero, as transcribed at Gateworld (http://www.gateworld.net/atlantis/s2/transcripts/208.shtml)
- - - - - - - - -
At first, all he felt was anger. Not rage. If he’d been able to articulate the feeling, even to himself, he wouldn’t have called it rage. Nor frustration. Just anger.
The anger was sourceless, unassuageable, free of pain, deep.
And then he knew he wouldn’t be quite so mad if he could only scratch himself.
Everywhere itched.
It was then that he noticed that he couldn’t move as he wanted, that there were THINGS holding him down, his arms high and low, his legs at thigh-level, his torso. The anger became fury, helplessness and fear.
These were feelings he’d known he should have had - when?
He pushed against the things that held him. Where there was contact, the sensation was tolerable, and he rubbed as hard as he could wherever he could.
There was a touch to his forehead, and Her voice said, “Lie still, Colonel, you are among friends. You will soon be well. Dr. Beckett’s treatment is working.”
“Why won’t he open his eyes? Yes, yes, of course, Elizabeth said he was photosensitive. Ronon, make it darker in here.” That was - but he couldn’t put a name to the voice.
“I’m going to take these things off him,” said another.
“I think the bands are a kindness, for now.” That was Her again. There was fluttery pressure across his face, making the itching less.
“Should you be doing that?”
“Dr. McKay, I am only removing that which does not belong.”
“Well, okay,” and now his left hand was being pinched and twisted. “This stuff on his palms, it’s coming right off.”
His right foot was raised, startling his eyes open. The Strong One was intently doing something to his toes. It - TICKLED - just a little, but the relief was so much greater.
And She was saying, “Just rest, Colonel.”
But he couldn’t. Her people - the fate of her entire fucking civilization - was dependent on his good will, and he’d pinned her to the wall and kissed her.
He’d sworn he would never… never again… He hadn’t meant to hurt Candy, he had only wanted to be friendly, to take some comfort, give her a little money, and they’d killed her for it. And her son… he hadn’t even known about the boy, about her blind mother and the husband whose leg had been blown off by a landmine.
Heather had been desperate, too, in her own way. And after Candy, she’d moved back in with her parents and that had been that. Eight years wasted from both their lives.
And so he’d learned, way too late, that he could never assume that when a woman looked at him she was looking at HIM, not at a threat to be mollified, or a meal ticket, or a protector against something even worse. That, for him, there was no such thing as freely-given consent. Rodney teased him about going for princesses and Ancients, but he couldn’t casually destroy an Ancient.
He was never going to do that to Teyla, and he’d kissed her…
TEYLA, yes, Her name was Teyla. And Rodney, and Ronon, they were here too.
“Are those tears? Is he crying?” That was Rodney.
“You’d be bawling your eyes out.” Ronon.
God, how could he be so weak in front of any of them? Especially Rodney, who needed him to be strong and certain. And what right did he have to grieve anything in front of Ronon? What must they think of him, seeing him like this?
And Teyla brushed John’s tears away and tried to sooth the friend who had truly seen her from that very first instant on Athos.
And Rodney picked at the flaking blue on John’s hands and fervently wished that he would give some sign that he’d really survived this. They all needed him. He needed him. This had to still be John Sheppard.
And Ronon pulled long scales off John’s legs and thought, I would die for this man. I fought for my life when maybe I shouldn’t have, but I would die for this man.
* * * THE END * * *
All feedback welcomed; I've been dissed by meaner people than you, trust me. Comment here or email me at helenw@murphnet.org.
More fic at http://www.murphnet.org/fanfic
Author: Helen W. (wneleh)
Length: ~500 words
Rating/warning: PG-13 for subject matter and language
Major characters: Sheppard, team (gen)
Spoilers: Missing scene for "Conversion"
Standard disclaimers apply.
Emergence
by Helen W.
Cut to Atlantis. In the Infirmary, Beckett comes out from a screened-off area. Weir, Caldwell and Sheppard's team are waiting anxiously for him.]
BECKETT: It's not gonna happen overnight -- you can bet on that -- but the transformation has begun to reverse itself.
CALDWELL: So eventually he'll be back in uniform?
BECKETT: Eventually.
McKAY: Well done, Carson, for once again elevating medicine to actual science.
BECKETT: Well, thank you, Rodney(!)
WEIR: We'll all finally be able to get some sleep. [to Beckett] Keep me posted.
BECKETT: Aye.
[Weir leaves the room and Caldwell follows her. The team doesn't budge.]
DEX: We might, uh ...
TEYLA: ... stay a while.
McKAY: Well, if that's alright.
BECKETT: Of course.
[He walks away. The team looks through the gap in the screens at Sheppard lying unconscious in bed.]
- From “Conversion,” written by Robert C. Cooper and Martin Gero, as transcribed at Gateworld (http://www.gateworld.net/atlantis/s2/transcripts/208.shtml)
- - - - - - - - -
At first, all he felt was anger. Not rage. If he’d been able to articulate the feeling, even to himself, he wouldn’t have called it rage. Nor frustration. Just anger.
The anger was sourceless, unassuageable, free of pain, deep.
And then he knew he wouldn’t be quite so mad if he could only scratch himself.
Everywhere itched.
It was then that he noticed that he couldn’t move as he wanted, that there were THINGS holding him down, his arms high and low, his legs at thigh-level, his torso. The anger became fury, helplessness and fear.
These were feelings he’d known he should have had - when?
He pushed against the things that held him. Where there was contact, the sensation was tolerable, and he rubbed as hard as he could wherever he could.
There was a touch to his forehead, and Her voice said, “Lie still, Colonel, you are among friends. You will soon be well. Dr. Beckett’s treatment is working.”
“Why won’t he open his eyes? Yes, yes, of course, Elizabeth said he was photosensitive. Ronon, make it darker in here.” That was - but he couldn’t put a name to the voice.
“I’m going to take these things off him,” said another.
“I think the bands are a kindness, for now.” That was Her again. There was fluttery pressure across his face, making the itching less.
“Should you be doing that?”
“Dr. McKay, I am only removing that which does not belong.”
“Well, okay,” and now his left hand was being pinched and twisted. “This stuff on his palms, it’s coming right off.”
His right foot was raised, startling his eyes open. The Strong One was intently doing something to his toes. It - TICKLED - just a little, but the relief was so much greater.
And She was saying, “Just rest, Colonel.”
But he couldn’t. Her people - the fate of her entire fucking civilization - was dependent on his good will, and he’d pinned her to the wall and kissed her.
He’d sworn he would never… never again… He hadn’t meant to hurt Candy, he had only wanted to be friendly, to take some comfort, give her a little money, and they’d killed her for it. And her son… he hadn’t even known about the boy, about her blind mother and the husband whose leg had been blown off by a landmine.
Heather had been desperate, too, in her own way. And after Candy, she’d moved back in with her parents and that had been that. Eight years wasted from both their lives.
And so he’d learned, way too late, that he could never assume that when a woman looked at him she was looking at HIM, not at a threat to be mollified, or a meal ticket, or a protector against something even worse. That, for him, there was no such thing as freely-given consent. Rodney teased him about going for princesses and Ancients, but he couldn’t casually destroy an Ancient.
He was never going to do that to Teyla, and he’d kissed her…
TEYLA, yes, Her name was Teyla. And Rodney, and Ronon, they were here too.
“Are those tears? Is he crying?” That was Rodney.
“You’d be bawling your eyes out.” Ronon.
God, how could he be so weak in front of any of them? Especially Rodney, who needed him to be strong and certain. And what right did he have to grieve anything in front of Ronon? What must they think of him, seeing him like this?
And Teyla brushed John’s tears away and tried to sooth the friend who had truly seen her from that very first instant on Athos.
And Rodney picked at the flaking blue on John’s hands and fervently wished that he would give some sign that he’d really survived this. They all needed him. He needed him. This had to still be John Sheppard.
And Ronon pulled long scales off John’s legs and thought, I would die for this man. I fought for my life when maybe I shouldn’t have, but I would die for this man.
* * * THE END * * *
All feedback welcomed; I've been dissed by meaner people than you, trust me. Comment here or email me at helenw@murphnet.org.
More fic at http://www.murphnet.org/fanfic