JOB INTERVIEW BY wildcat88 [LFWS #2 ROUND 8]
Title: Job Interview
Author: wildcat88
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Stargate belongs to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc., no infringements of any rights is intended.
Spoilers: None
Prompt for the Round: Create a pure AU. Put the team somewhere other than Atlantis and in jobs other than than those shown on the show.
JOB INTERVIEW by wildcat88
John spotted the street sign a second too late. He made the block and squeezed his eight year old pickup into a spot made for compacts then locked the door out of habit and hurried across the red stone plaza that was baking in the July heat to the shopping strip, searching for Suite 140. A flowerbox of wilting begonias waved wearily at him, and he sighed in relief at the blast of cold air that hit him when he opened a door marked Athos Investigations. The interior was tastefully decorated in dark wood antiques that his father would appreciate, and several Tiffany lamps gave the room a warm glow.
“Hello?”
“Just a minute,” a rumbling voice called from the back. “Be right there.”
John studied an oil painting on the wall, intrigued by the violent colors and warrior theme. He squinted at the artist’s signature in the corner, but couldn’t decipher it.
“Can I help you?”
John turned and took a step back in surprise. The big man with tattoos and dreadlocks hardly fit his imaginings of a private investigator.
The man seemed to know it, the corner of his mouth curving into a smile. “Not what you expected?”
“Um…” Heat scorched John’s face. “I was expecting someone who could blend a little more.”
“Blend where?”
The heat spread to the tips of John’s ears. “Anywhere.”
The man chuckled and extended his hand. “Ronon Dex.”
“John Sheppard. Look, I don’t-”
“Mr. Sheppard, I’m not the only investigator here. Teyla, she owns this place, will be back any minute.”
The door chimed, and a stocky man carrying Whataburger bags entered. “What’s with people? There’s a piece of shit truck parked…” His eyes widened when he spotted John. “Oh, sorry.” He shoved the bags into Ronon’s hands. “Rodney McKay.”
John shook Rodney’s hand. “John Sheppard, owner of the piece of shit truck.”
Rodney’s face turned scarlet. “Sorry about that. Please don’t tell Teyla.”
Ronon snorted and shoved the food back at Rodney. “Go eat before you make things worse.” When Rodney ducked into an office, Ronon grinned. “He has no filter. Whatever enters his brain comes out his mouth.”
John chuckled. “I understand. Most of my kids were like that.”
“Were?”
“I used to coach high school football.”
The door chimed again, and a small woman hurried in. She raked her fingers through her hair then turned a beaming smile on John.
“Hello. I am Teyla Emmagan. How may we be of service?”
John offered his hand. “I’m John Sheppard. I heard you were hiring.”
Her brows arched. “I see. Please come with me.”
Ronon nodded at him and followed after Rodney while Teyla led John to a small office with comfortable chairs and a slight pine scent. She sat behind a tidy desk and beckoned him to a seat.
“Do you have a résumé?”
John handed her the paper. To her credit, her face remained neutral as she read through the sparse details of his education and teaching career.
Teyla laid the résumé down and scrutinized him then leaned forward. “Tell me why you are really here.”
Impressed, John ditched his original plan and went for the heart of the matter. “I heard about the work you’re doing and I want to be involved.”
One hand moved to her lap but otherwise she didn’t bat an eye. “To what work are you referring?”
“Hunting down the people financing the bio-weapon attacks in the Midwest.”
Her eyes flicked to the door, and John turned. Ronon and Rodney had entered silently and were staring at him with deathly serious expressions, handguns hanging from exposed shoulder holsters.
“Where did you hear that?” Rodney asked.
John glanced from him to Ronon to Teyla. “I have some well-placed contacts.”
Ronon folded his arms over his chest. “How well-placed?”
“CIA, FBI, Pentagon.” Trust had to start somewhere. “My father is Patrick Sheppard.”
Rodney and Ronon exchanged appreciative looks as they moved from the doorway to stand behind Teyla.
She tapped a finger on his résumé. “What did you leave off?”
John met her challenging gaze. “The teaching position in Cairo was a cover.”
Rodney frowned as he studied the paper then John. “A cover for what?”
John smiled enigmatically, waiting to see how intuitive they were.
“A graduate degree in business from George Washington University seems a little overkill for a high school coach,” Rodney said.
“GW is close to Quantico,” Ronon added.
John’s smile widened. “They’re good.”
“Yes, they are.” Teyla’s head tilted. “Special Ops?”
“Close enough.”
Ronon moved quicker than John expected for a man his size. John ducked but couldn’t avoid the arm wrapping around his neck and pulling him over the back of the chair. He twisted as he fell, landing on his knees and pulling Ronon off-balance. Ronon hit the floor like a cat and rolled to his feet, throwing several solid punches that John blocked. John feinted left then caught Ronon in a chokehold that would have made his Black Ops instructors proud. Ronon broke the hold in a move that John had never mastered and planted an elbow in John’s solar plexus.
“He’s got the training,” Ronon announced.
“I could’ve hacked his file,” Rodney said. “Beating him up wasn’t necessary.”
“Hey!” John protested. “One lucky punch doesn’t constitute getting beat up.” He turned to Ronon. “But I want a rematch.”
Ronon grinned. “Deal.”
“We will check your story, but I will assume we will confirm everything.” Teyla moved around the desk and extended her hand. “Welcome to the team.”
Don’t forget to leave ONLY FEEDBACK in the comments and NOT VOTES. All comments will be screened until the voting closes.
Author: wildcat88
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Stargate belongs to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc., no infringements of any rights is intended.
Spoilers: None
Prompt for the Round: Create a pure AU. Put the team somewhere other than Atlantis and in jobs other than than those shown on the show.
JOB INTERVIEW by wildcat88
John spotted the street sign a second too late. He made the block and squeezed his eight year old pickup into a spot made for compacts then locked the door out of habit and hurried across the red stone plaza that was baking in the July heat to the shopping strip, searching for Suite 140. A flowerbox of wilting begonias waved wearily at him, and he sighed in relief at the blast of cold air that hit him when he opened a door marked Athos Investigations. The interior was tastefully decorated in dark wood antiques that his father would appreciate, and several Tiffany lamps gave the room a warm glow.
“Hello?”
“Just a minute,” a rumbling voice called from the back. “Be right there.”
John studied an oil painting on the wall, intrigued by the violent colors and warrior theme. He squinted at the artist’s signature in the corner, but couldn’t decipher it.
“Can I help you?”
John turned and took a step back in surprise. The big man with tattoos and dreadlocks hardly fit his imaginings of a private investigator.
The man seemed to know it, the corner of his mouth curving into a smile. “Not what you expected?”
“Um…” Heat scorched John’s face. “I was expecting someone who could blend a little more.”
“Blend where?”
The heat spread to the tips of John’s ears. “Anywhere.”
The man chuckled and extended his hand. “Ronon Dex.”
“John Sheppard. Look, I don’t-”
“Mr. Sheppard, I’m not the only investigator here. Teyla, she owns this place, will be back any minute.”
The door chimed, and a stocky man carrying Whataburger bags entered. “What’s with people? There’s a piece of shit truck parked…” His eyes widened when he spotted John. “Oh, sorry.” He shoved the bags into Ronon’s hands. “Rodney McKay.”
John shook Rodney’s hand. “John Sheppard, owner of the piece of shit truck.”
Rodney’s face turned scarlet. “Sorry about that. Please don’t tell Teyla.”
Ronon snorted and shoved the food back at Rodney. “Go eat before you make things worse.” When Rodney ducked into an office, Ronon grinned. “He has no filter. Whatever enters his brain comes out his mouth.”
John chuckled. “I understand. Most of my kids were like that.”
“Were?”
“I used to coach high school football.”
The door chimed again, and a small woman hurried in. She raked her fingers through her hair then turned a beaming smile on John.
“Hello. I am Teyla Emmagan. How may we be of service?”
John offered his hand. “I’m John Sheppard. I heard you were hiring.”
Her brows arched. “I see. Please come with me.”
Ronon nodded at him and followed after Rodney while Teyla led John to a small office with comfortable chairs and a slight pine scent. She sat behind a tidy desk and beckoned him to a seat.
“Do you have a résumé?”
John handed her the paper. To her credit, her face remained neutral as she read through the sparse details of his education and teaching career.
Teyla laid the résumé down and scrutinized him then leaned forward. “Tell me why you are really here.”
Impressed, John ditched his original plan and went for the heart of the matter. “I heard about the work you’re doing and I want to be involved.”
One hand moved to her lap but otherwise she didn’t bat an eye. “To what work are you referring?”
“Hunting down the people financing the bio-weapon attacks in the Midwest.”
Her eyes flicked to the door, and John turned. Ronon and Rodney had entered silently and were staring at him with deathly serious expressions, handguns hanging from exposed shoulder holsters.
“Where did you hear that?” Rodney asked.
John glanced from him to Ronon to Teyla. “I have some well-placed contacts.”
Ronon folded his arms over his chest. “How well-placed?”
“CIA, FBI, Pentagon.” Trust had to start somewhere. “My father is Patrick Sheppard.”
Rodney and Ronon exchanged appreciative looks as they moved from the doorway to stand behind Teyla.
She tapped a finger on his résumé. “What did you leave off?”
John met her challenging gaze. “The teaching position in Cairo was a cover.”
Rodney frowned as he studied the paper then John. “A cover for what?”
John smiled enigmatically, waiting to see how intuitive they were.
“A graduate degree in business from George Washington University seems a little overkill for a high school coach,” Rodney said.
“GW is close to Quantico,” Ronon added.
John’s smile widened. “They’re good.”
“Yes, they are.” Teyla’s head tilted. “Special Ops?”
“Close enough.”
Ronon moved quicker than John expected for a man his size. John ducked but couldn’t avoid the arm wrapping around his neck and pulling him over the back of the chair. He twisted as he fell, landing on his knees and pulling Ronon off-balance. Ronon hit the floor like a cat and rolled to his feet, throwing several solid punches that John blocked. John feinted left then caught Ronon in a chokehold that would have made his Black Ops instructors proud. Ronon broke the hold in a move that John had never mastered and planted an elbow in John’s solar plexus.
“He’s got the training,” Ronon announced.
“I could’ve hacked his file,” Rodney said. “Beating him up wasn’t necessary.”
“Hey!” John protested. “One lucky punch doesn’t constitute getting beat up.” He turned to Ronon. “But I want a rematch.”
Ronon grinned. “Deal.”
“We will check your story, but I will assume we will confirm everything.” Teyla moved around the desk and extended her hand. “Welcome to the team.”
Don’t forget to leave ONLY FEEDBACK in the comments and NOT VOTES. All comments will be screened until the voting closes.