Copper by Sian1359 (Family Challenge)
Title: Copper
Author: Sian1359
For the SGA FlashFic Family Challenge
Pairing: Gen
Category: Angst, POV, Missing Scene
Rating: PG/Teen
Word Count: ~1900
Disclaimer: Not Mine
Spoilers: Takes place during Letters From Pegasus (Season One, Episode 17)
Warnings: Written in Present Tense
Notes: I think I've pretty much had this in my mind since the first airing of Letters From Pegasus. The most recent repeat on Sci Fi, as well as the revelations we got in Outcast and the nature of this challenge finally got me to put 'pen to paper'. The end dialogue is directly from the episode.
Thanks to mrshamill for checking it over.
Summary: It's family that can hurt you the worst.
**********
John tries to tell himself that he isn't bothered. That Teyla hadn't basically just dismissed him upon their return to Atlantis, and that she isn't now actively snubbing him. Of course her immediate concern had been to see that Orin ( I consider Orin as family, Major) and his people are being looked after and settled in the aftermath of the Wraith culling of Orin's planet. It isn't even as if John would have been much help; Carson's team saw to their medical needs and the rest of the Athosians will no doubt absorb whichever of Orin's people want to stay as new additions to their own society, while the rest will eventually depart back through the stargate to other worlds -- to other friends and families.
All true, and something to hold onto as he takes a seat in the conference room. Except that Teyla hadn't even waited for John to power down the puddle jumper before she'd been winding her way through the cluster of people in the back and popping open the hatch. As if she hadn't been able to wait to get away from him. And now as if she can't stand to even look at him while she takes up a sentinel position near an equally silent, also standing McKay.
John certainly understands Teyla's despair and frustration. Even her anger, if he's being honest, although he does feel that some of it is misdirected. Certainly his own stomach is all ache and nausea, his mood still heartsick and weary, the same as they have been from that first moment of realization that they'd only just beaten the Wraith to the planet and would have to turn away or bear witness to the culling. They'd had time to give warning but no opportunity to assist in the preparations. Not and still get the intel that was the reason behind their sortie in the first place.
It wasn't as if John had wanted to abandon Orin and his people. Leave no one behind wasn't just a military credo that John gave lip service to; he had a history and the black mark on his service record to prove it. The thing was -- the difference this time was -- that when he'd gone back for the men in Afghanistan against orders, it hadn't been in the middle of a fucking mission. And the only persons he'd endangered were his flight crew (all of whom had agreed with him one hundred percent). Sure, had he lost his crew or his copter, that could have ultimately affected the overall war to hear his CO rail, but …
But John had thought that Teyla, more than most, would understand that a mission's needs and priorities came first. That Atlantis (and the Athosians) came first, considering she was the leader of the Athosians. Maybe, though, when you were really little better than a hunter/gatherer -- than prey -- you just ran and prayed that enough of you survived instead of figuring out a way to fight back. It certainly wasn't as if Teyla's people (or Orin's) had had any opportunity previously to stand against a culling. (That Atlantis was going to be able to stand up against a culling.)
So maybe Teyla has never been forced to choose between which people to save and which to sacrifice. Has never had to watch as good men needed to shove and kick and, yes, shoot to keep people who were simply frightened and innocent and too fucking many from piling on and preventing him from being able to get his bird off the embassy roof and up into the air with the few that could be saved.
Teyla now thinks him cold and heartless. He's betrayed her expectations of him and, in turn, John is more concerned that this breach of faith will be too much to overcome on either a personal or a professional level. Because the worry that either of them might die with this between them is almost more important to John than her disappointment -- as well as there being a small part of him that almost wishes it had come to the jumper not being able to lift off for the weight of them all and Teyla being forced to decide who to throw out so that maybe she wouldn't then be standing there so fucking tragic in her righteousness (and that's just fucking selfish as well as so very third grade, John!) -- maybe Teyla is right to be disillusioned.
Except John has never claimed he was a superhero (was any type of damn hero) anymore than McKay has, and he finds that like McKay has ranted on in the past, he resents just how high a pedestal she has put him on, not to mention feeling hurt from the distance of the fall. But this isn't the first time John has taken this kind of tumble, nor is it the first time he finds himself vowing to close himself off so that it can't happen again.
Still, it's damn hard to just sit there as Elizabeth briskly enters the briefing room. Neither he nor Teyla have said anything to Rodney in not wanting to have to give voice to the horrors they'd witnessed more than once. From the brittleness of Rodney's own expression, however, it's obviously that he's picked up on what they've learned from theirs as they wait for Elizabeth's arrival.
John works a little harder at donning the mask of a soldier simply there to do his duty, hoping that it will hide what it needs to until it's a mask no longer.
Elizabeth looks first to Teyla. "Are our guests comfortably settled in?"
Teyla has masks of her own, or maybe just enough experience in this to draw on. Although the sorrow and despair shadowing her eyes are barely mitigated by the decent news she gets to offer. "Yes," she says simply.
"Good," Elizabeth gives Teyla a tight nod and then takes a step toward John. "So tell me," she sets her hands down on the table between them and leans down, "how bad is it?"
John frowns and tries hard to think only of threat assessments even if he can't help but look first to Teyla. "Bad. Each hive ship acts like a carrier group with cruisers and hundreds of Darts escorting it. Grodin's downloading the sensor readings right now."
Elizabeth's head has dropped and John lowers his own eyes to the table, because there's no way a handful of puddle jumpers can take on a fucking task force.
"I have never witnessed a culling that took so many," comes from Teyla. John's breath hitches for a moment but she says nothing more, is smart enough to realize that now is not the time to show her new doubts or to announce his failings. The coming Wraith will no doubt expose them all.
"We saved a few, that's worth something," he finds himself saying as Elizabeth straightens up, knowing it's a stupid statement on several levels and that there will be no absolution in Teyla's eyes. It's just part of the mask, part of what's expected from him.
Clutching her arms tightly beneath her breasts, Elizabeth finally turns to McKay.
"Rodney, are we ready to send our message?"
"When you are," McKay responds in perhaps as quiet a tone as John has ever heard from him.
Elizabeth's 'okay,' is even softer as McKay turns his unsettled expression one last time on the three of them before heading out. Teyla and Elizabeth then share nods, and Teyla levels one last look of disenchantment in John's direction before following. John starts up from his chair himself, however Elizabeth starts talking and he comes to a stop in front of her.
"Lieutenant Ford is just finishing recording the personal messages from all the team members," she finally looks up. Giving him a little shrug and with a lightness that has to be feigned, she continues, "If you'd like ..."
"I'm good," he fills in her obvious pause quickly, unable to stop from turning his face away from her. That pedestal was smashed long ago and even the sudden awkwardness between him and Elizabeth is easier to deal with than any message home could be after all this time.
"OK."
Yeah, okay. Only Elizabeth is now looking at his chests instead of meeting his eyes. Surely that can only help his struggling walls?
"Well, then, along with a short note of my own," and now her eyes rise, so John's slide away, "I took the liberty of recording messages to the families of the people we've lost."
"It's a good idea," he agrees, because it is, although it comes with another all-too-knowing stare.
"But there's one in particular," she continues with a relentless intensity in her voice and in her expression that he can no longer duck away from, "I thought maybe you'd like to do yourself."
They hold each other's gazes now, Elizabeth unyielding and unwilling to let him go without submitting. And in this moment John hates her, in the same way he now hates Teyla a little -- in the same way they're guilting him into hating himself.
When such echoes of disappointment came from many of the teachers and some of his COs over the years, from people like Dean Coates and Professor Billings, or from Colonels Marcotte and Sumner, John's walls can be built from smirks and smugness layered upon a foundation of arrogance just as outrageous as McKay's. Because John has his own touch of genius, be it in math, in his ability to pilot anything that could become airborne, or now even because of the goddamn ATA gene. He has a something that makes him irreplaceable in spite of himself. Then he's the proverbial bad penny, necessary even as he's unwanted, and it's so easy to not give a good goddamn care back.
Only now he's becoming the bad son/bad brother again; the flawed leader and maybe the faithless lover. The only walls that can protect him from this are those of distance and isolation. Except that's not possible in Atlantis -- at least physically -- where privacy is non existent and they must all depend on each other despite general dislikes, character flaws and criminal failings. There can be no clean break here, no refusal to make contact, no penance, absolution or sanctuary found in the clean, cold air of a cockpit. And so he can only wall off his emotions and subsume himself in duty.
And hope that the Wraith will bleed him quicker than Elizabeth and Teyla's cuts.
-- finis --
Author: Sian1359
For the SGA FlashFic Family Challenge
Pairing: Gen
Category: Angst, POV, Missing Scene
Rating: PG/Teen
Word Count: ~1900
Disclaimer: Not Mine
Spoilers: Takes place during Letters From Pegasus (Season One, Episode 17)
Warnings: Written in Present Tense
Notes: I think I've pretty much had this in my mind since the first airing of Letters From Pegasus. The most recent repeat on Sci Fi, as well as the revelations we got in Outcast and the nature of this challenge finally got me to put 'pen to paper'. The end dialogue is directly from the episode.
Thanks to mrshamill for checking it over.
Summary: It's family that can hurt you the worst.
**********
John tries to tell himself that he isn't bothered. That Teyla hadn't basically just dismissed him upon their return to Atlantis, and that she isn't now actively snubbing him. Of course her immediate concern had been to see that Orin ( I consider Orin as family, Major) and his people are being looked after and settled in the aftermath of the Wraith culling of Orin's planet. It isn't even as if John would have been much help; Carson's team saw to their medical needs and the rest of the Athosians will no doubt absorb whichever of Orin's people want to stay as new additions to their own society, while the rest will eventually depart back through the stargate to other worlds -- to other friends and families.
All true, and something to hold onto as he takes a seat in the conference room. Except that Teyla hadn't even waited for John to power down the puddle jumper before she'd been winding her way through the cluster of people in the back and popping open the hatch. As if she hadn't been able to wait to get away from him. And now as if she can't stand to even look at him while she takes up a sentinel position near an equally silent, also standing McKay.
John certainly understands Teyla's despair and frustration. Even her anger, if he's being honest, although he does feel that some of it is misdirected. Certainly his own stomach is all ache and nausea, his mood still heartsick and weary, the same as they have been from that first moment of realization that they'd only just beaten the Wraith to the planet and would have to turn away or bear witness to the culling. They'd had time to give warning but no opportunity to assist in the preparations. Not and still get the intel that was the reason behind their sortie in the first place.
It wasn't as if John had wanted to abandon Orin and his people. Leave no one behind wasn't just a military credo that John gave lip service to; he had a history and the black mark on his service record to prove it. The thing was -- the difference this time was -- that when he'd gone back for the men in Afghanistan against orders, it hadn't been in the middle of a fucking mission. And the only persons he'd endangered were his flight crew (all of whom had agreed with him one hundred percent). Sure, had he lost his crew or his copter, that could have ultimately affected the overall war to hear his CO rail, but …
But John had thought that Teyla, more than most, would understand that a mission's needs and priorities came first. That Atlantis (and the Athosians) came first, considering she was the leader of the Athosians. Maybe, though, when you were really little better than a hunter/gatherer -- than prey -- you just ran and prayed that enough of you survived instead of figuring out a way to fight back. It certainly wasn't as if Teyla's people (or Orin's) had had any opportunity previously to stand against a culling. (That Atlantis was going to be able to stand up against a culling.)
So maybe Teyla has never been forced to choose between which people to save and which to sacrifice. Has never had to watch as good men needed to shove and kick and, yes, shoot to keep people who were simply frightened and innocent and too fucking many from piling on and preventing him from being able to get his bird off the embassy roof and up into the air with the few that could be saved.
Teyla now thinks him cold and heartless. He's betrayed her expectations of him and, in turn, John is more concerned that this breach of faith will be too much to overcome on either a personal or a professional level. Because the worry that either of them might die with this between them is almost more important to John than her disappointment -- as well as there being a small part of him that almost wishes it had come to the jumper not being able to lift off for the weight of them all and Teyla being forced to decide who to throw out so that maybe she wouldn't then be standing there so fucking tragic in her righteousness (and that's just fucking selfish as well as so very third grade, John!) -- maybe Teyla is right to be disillusioned.
Except John has never claimed he was a superhero (was any type of damn hero) anymore than McKay has, and he finds that like McKay has ranted on in the past, he resents just how high a pedestal she has put him on, not to mention feeling hurt from the distance of the fall. But this isn't the first time John has taken this kind of tumble, nor is it the first time he finds himself vowing to close himself off so that it can't happen again.
Still, it's damn hard to just sit there as Elizabeth briskly enters the briefing room. Neither he nor Teyla have said anything to Rodney in not wanting to have to give voice to the horrors they'd witnessed more than once. From the brittleness of Rodney's own expression, however, it's obviously that he's picked up on what they've learned from theirs as they wait for Elizabeth's arrival.
John works a little harder at donning the mask of a soldier simply there to do his duty, hoping that it will hide what it needs to until it's a mask no longer.
Elizabeth looks first to Teyla. "Are our guests comfortably settled in?"
Teyla has masks of her own, or maybe just enough experience in this to draw on. Although the sorrow and despair shadowing her eyes are barely mitigated by the decent news she gets to offer. "Yes," she says simply.
"Good," Elizabeth gives Teyla a tight nod and then takes a step toward John. "So tell me," she sets her hands down on the table between them and leans down, "how bad is it?"
John frowns and tries hard to think only of threat assessments even if he can't help but look first to Teyla. "Bad. Each hive ship acts like a carrier group with cruisers and hundreds of Darts escorting it. Grodin's downloading the sensor readings right now."
Elizabeth's head has dropped and John lowers his own eyes to the table, because there's no way a handful of puddle jumpers can take on a fucking task force.
"I have never witnessed a culling that took so many," comes from Teyla. John's breath hitches for a moment but she says nothing more, is smart enough to realize that now is not the time to show her new doubts or to announce his failings. The coming Wraith will no doubt expose them all.
"We saved a few, that's worth something," he finds himself saying as Elizabeth straightens up, knowing it's a stupid statement on several levels and that there will be no absolution in Teyla's eyes. It's just part of the mask, part of what's expected from him.
Clutching her arms tightly beneath her breasts, Elizabeth finally turns to McKay.
"Rodney, are we ready to send our message?"
"When you are," McKay responds in perhaps as quiet a tone as John has ever heard from him.
Elizabeth's 'okay,' is even softer as McKay turns his unsettled expression one last time on the three of them before heading out. Teyla and Elizabeth then share nods, and Teyla levels one last look of disenchantment in John's direction before following. John starts up from his chair himself, however Elizabeth starts talking and he comes to a stop in front of her.
"Lieutenant Ford is just finishing recording the personal messages from all the team members," she finally looks up. Giving him a little shrug and with a lightness that has to be feigned, she continues, "If you'd like ..."
"I'm good," he fills in her obvious pause quickly, unable to stop from turning his face away from her. That pedestal was smashed long ago and even the sudden awkwardness between him and Elizabeth is easier to deal with than any message home could be after all this time.
"OK."
Yeah, okay. Only Elizabeth is now looking at his chests instead of meeting his eyes. Surely that can only help his struggling walls?
"Well, then, along with a short note of my own," and now her eyes rise, so John's slide away, "I took the liberty of recording messages to the families of the people we've lost."
"It's a good idea," he agrees, because it is, although it comes with another all-too-knowing stare.
"But there's one in particular," she continues with a relentless intensity in her voice and in her expression that he can no longer duck away from, "I thought maybe you'd like to do yourself."
They hold each other's gazes now, Elizabeth unyielding and unwilling to let him go without submitting. And in this moment John hates her, in the same way he now hates Teyla a little -- in the same way they're guilting him into hating himself.
When such echoes of disappointment came from many of the teachers and some of his COs over the years, from people like Dean Coates and Professor Billings, or from Colonels Marcotte and Sumner, John's walls can be built from smirks and smugness layered upon a foundation of arrogance just as outrageous as McKay's. Because John has his own touch of genius, be it in math, in his ability to pilot anything that could become airborne, or now even because of the goddamn ATA gene. He has a something that makes him irreplaceable in spite of himself. Then he's the proverbial bad penny, necessary even as he's unwanted, and it's so easy to not give a good goddamn care back.
Only now he's becoming the bad son/bad brother again; the flawed leader and maybe the faithless lover. The only walls that can protect him from this are those of distance and isolation. Except that's not possible in Atlantis -- at least physically -- where privacy is non existent and they must all depend on each other despite general dislikes, character flaws and criminal failings. There can be no clean break here, no refusal to make contact, no penance, absolution or sanctuary found in the clean, cold air of a cockpit. And so he can only wall off his emotions and subsume himself in duty.
And hope that the Wraith will bleed him quicker than Elizabeth and Teyla's cuts.
-- finis --