Fanfiction - From the Archive! October 21, 2013
So, a couple weeks since I've posted one. Sorry! Last week I had a company function and got home late. Week before I posted a new story instead of one from the archive. (somehow I think I'm forgiven for that! LOL)
This week, I thought I'd post a great many of the drabbles I wrote over the years. Some of them were inspired by episodes, some by caps, some challenges from other people and some just bit me and demanded to be written.
Hopefully I did not duplicate any of them but I had to cobble them together from several locations and posts on ff.net and on my hard drive. LOL
For those that don't know, a drabble is a story that is exactly 100 words. No more, no less.
Most of these drabbles are 100 words, however there are a couple double drabbles. (sometimes the muse is NOT agreeable to 100 words!) ;) Though, most of the time I try to stay to 100 words. Its amazing how that practice really hones my muse and helps keep me from rambling too much when I'm writing stories. Forcing myself to tell a story in *exactly* 100 words is a great exercise!
Drabble Wallpaper pieces are not included. If you'd like to see those (drabble for a cap and turned into a wallpaper) you can view those on my LJ using the "drabble wallpapers" tag. :)
Where necessary, I added the POV, some notes on the drabble and why, and what episode, where applicable.
Enjoy!
Author's Notes:
The following chapters are a series of drabbles written for various Atlantis episodes from various seasons.
For those that don't know, a drabble is a story that is exactly 100 words. No more, no less.
Most of these drabbles are 100 words, however there are a couple double drabbles. (sometimes the muse is NOT agreeable to 100 words!) ;) Though, most of the time I try to stay to 100 words. It’s amazing how that practice really hones my muse and helps keep me from rambling too much when I'm writing stories. Forcing myself to tell a story in *exactly* 100 words is a great exercise!
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A drabble and half for 3x17. I've had this idea ever since I first watched the ep.
Armor
He had to dig to find it, but that's how he wanted it. Every time he opened his closet, he didn't need to be reminded. His hand closed over the dark blue dust cover and he slowly pulled the wardrobe bag from his closet. He stared at it a minute, before slowly lowering the zipper.
More times than he cared to remember he'd worn his dress blues and fewer times than was fair it'd been happy. It was his armor; the shield that kept him stoic, even in the face of grieving spouses, heartbroken parents and his own unrelenting pain.
How many times had he worn it? As he pulled the dust cover off he swore he could still see the long dried tearstain on left shoulder, left by Holland's wife. Invisible, the shadow of tears still marred his memory.
Mitch, Dex, Holland... Soldiers, all of them…
Until today.
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Changes
(Siege III Drabble - 100 words)
Sheppard stared hard at Ford, pouring as much command and assertiveness into his expression as he could muster. The hesitation…the defiance…the distrust, all of it shocked John. Ford followed orders. He was young, enthusiastic and absolutely reliable in a pinch…and followed orders.
Staring back at John was a young man Sheppard barely recognized. Beyond the eye, the expression…the overconfidence…the arrogance stunned John. His gaze narrowed slightly. This was not the lieutenant he knew, the soldier on his team, his friend. As the Jumper sped through the Atlantis Stargate, Sheppard wondered if he'd ever see the soldier he knew…his friend, again.
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Confident
(Condemned Drabble - 100 words)
He looked at McKay. Would Rodney really hold back? John wanted to dismiss the thought, but part of him still wondered. Ego? For sure. McKay had that in spades. But, risking their lives over it? John shook his head. Rodney wouldn't cross that line. He might hold back, only to charge in with a brilliant idea and save the day, but he'd never play with their lives like that. If push came to shove, Rodney would fix the jumper, if only to buy John and the rest of the team time to escape.
John nodded to himself, his trust reassured.
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Fear
(Runner Drabble, Ford POV - 100 words)
Can't they see it? See how strong I am? How much better I am? The Wraith are no match for me. Can you imagine an army of soldiers, just like me? We'd destroy the Wraith! I…I would get my revenge!
Oh God…what have I become? I can't stop it…can't control it! I almost shot McKay and…I couldn't stop myself!
The darkness stalks me. I can't escape it.
I fear it.
They do too. I can see it in their eyes. They fear me, don't trust me…are scared of me.
The darkness creeps back.
Can't they see how strong I am?
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Friendship
(Duet Drabble - 100 words)
He walked out of the infirmary. Definitely the strangest thing he'd ever seen. Relief worked its way into Sheppard's thoughts. He'd really thought McKay had fallen off the deep end on this one. John shook his head. There were a lot of things he didn't believe before stepping through the Stargate.
John smiled to himself. Maybe McKay would change, now that he had a little time with Cadman in his head.
John grinned. No way. McKay was McKay, and Sheppard doubted any force of nature could change that. John quirked an eyebrow…
…and he wouldn't have it any other way.
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Impressions
(Rising Drabble, Sheppard POV - 100 words) I was struck by this picture and Sheppard’s intense gaze on Weir, almost like he’s measuring her up. It was a tough cap to get, and a little fuzzy, but man! Look at that gaze! http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y15/atlantisscreencaps/Season%201/Rising/WeirSheppard10HD.jpg~original
Knots of apprehension cramp his gut, the unknown staring back at him as a shimmering wormhole. But, more, he's doubtful. Doubtful a civilian diplomat has the strength to lead them into the unknown.
(Hold on, Colonel!
A strong voice, confident and true, demands his attention, and he gives it. He watches her grab her pack.
We go through together. Her voice rings with authority.
She looks back once, her expression resolute. Her back straight, stride purposeful, she disappears into the wormhole.
John smiled slightly, respect replacing doubt. She has the guts to lead them into the unknown….
And he'll follow.
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Last Wish
(Rising Double Drabble, Sheppard POV - 200 words)
He stares at me, his eyes pleading, hollow…dying.
I see one wish in his eyes, one desire, one desperate hope and it hits me like a shot of cold water. I turn away from it, my mind screaming its defiance. It goes against everything I believe, I honor and who I am. It's what he wants, but as I stare at him, my head shakes in defiance anyway. His gaze lingers on mine…
Shoot me now.
How can I deny him? His suffering? His dying wish? I can't save him, I know it, and even if I could, what would I be saving? I stare at the wilted remains of a strong man, and stark clarity comes to me.
Swallowing against my defiance, I find a reason…a justification to latch onto. Its what he wants…it’s his wish, and in cold reality, I realize not only that I can't save him, but it's a quick, merciful path to the ultimate outcome he's doomed to. Through the gun scope my gaze settles on her head…an easy shot. But his eyes…his silent plea is burned in my mind. I sight down her back, my aim settling on his heart.
I pull the trigger.
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Obsession
(Trinity Double Drabble, Sheppard POV - 200 words)
His eyes are wild…almost possessed…irrational.
He won't leave it, won't stop. He can't accept that he can't understand, can't fix what is wrong. He's like a pit bull; latched into something that he won't let go of. He's been this way ever since he first laid eyes on the laboratory. The quest to know, to understand…to solve the mystery drove him. To reach the unreachable, and bend it to his will, failure was never an option to him. He asked me to trust him, and swayed me with his passionate belief.
He won't listen now, can't see…can't accept that he doesn't understand. He stubbornly refuses to give in…his ego still trying to bend the unbendable to his will.
He refuses to listen to me, and part of me screams to leave, to get away, but I won't. I won't leave him.
He's betrayed my trust, put both our lives and half a solar system in danger. I'm so angry with him, and another part of me wants to beat some sense into his hard head. But I won't. I'll make him listen to me, make him see reason, and if I fail, we'll die together.
But I won't leave him.
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Promises
(Instinct Drabble - 100 words)
He packed his equipment. Rolling his shoulder tenderly, Carson winced. He had a few aches and pains from the Wraith attack…but it could've been worse.
Carson's hands settled on the hard case containing the last of his retrovirus samples. He paused, sighing. He'd just wanted to offer support, some hope…something to believe in to Ellia's father. Instead, they both were dead. Carson shook his head and secured the case's latches. He'd made a mistake…and a doozy of one at that.
Carson lifted the case and grabbed his laptop. He'd perfect it, make the retrovirus work…
…make their deaths mean something.
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Reckoning
(Trinity Drabble, McKay POV - 100 words)
He was alone, and rather preferred it that way. The warm sea breeze did nothing to sooth him as he stared at the rolling ocean.
He had given the order himself. It was happenstance…a moment of convenience. No second thoughts, no hesitation…and yet, a man was dead. It was necessary. Someone had to do it, and it couldn't be him. It had to be someone who knew the systems as well as he did…but not him. He was too busy; he couldn't do it…
…he sent Collins.
A member of his team had died…and he'd have to live with it.
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Resolve
(Siege II Drabble - 100 words)
"I have to…and you know it."
His gaze was imploring. There was a time, not long ago, when John Sheppard would've done what was right, regardless of what anyone else thought. But, John felt himself wanting her to understand…to say yes.
"Go."
Locked in a gaze with her, John held it one last moment. There was so much he wanted to say, to tell her…so much he'd come to admire. But, in that moment, no words came to him, and strangely enough, he realized he didn't need to say them anyway.
Resolve strengthened him. Turning he dashed up the stairs.
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Sacrifices
(Duet Drabble - 100 words)
He fired and clenched his teeth against the powerful gun's concussion. The Dart whined by him. They'd been spotted. If the Dart got away, their cover would be blown.
He had to stop it. He knew that, but somewhere in the back of his mind he thought of McKay and Cadman. The decision was unenviable at best…horrifying at worst, but John stuck to his choice…knowing that if they died, it would be yet another decision that would haunt him for the rest of his life.
He continued firing, watching as the Dart crashed to the ground.
He had stopped it.
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True Strength
(Lost Boys Drabble - 100 words)
She is evil.
She stares at me, her gaze desiring. I can feel my death approaching, its touch…cold. Yet I do not back down. Unwanted images of Sumner plague me. My fate is the same, yet no one is there with a merciful bullet. The thought haunts me, yet I do not waver. I meet her chilling gaze with a strong one, full of as much courage as I can muster. Powerless against her, I fall heavily to my knees, yet my spirit remains undiminished. I will not bow to her. I'll die fighting.
My spirit will not be diminished.
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Trust
(Runner Drabble - 100 words)
The dart flew low over him. John watched it pass, wondering if he'd ever see Ford again.
…He trusted you with his life. You tell me, Colonel - was that trust misplaced?
John watched the dart speed off into the dark night sky, the whine of it's engine fading. He'd plead with the young lieutenant, urged him to listen, tried to bring him home. But, the trust wasn't there. "Ford," John whispered as he watched the dart fade from sight.
Was that trust misplaced?
Stuck in his mind, those words repeated over and over…and still, John could not answer them.
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Challenged: "I want to know what you think is going on inside Ronan's head after his first confrontation with Michael in the episode of the same name. "
He's a Wraith.
I don't care what Sheppard says, I can see it...feel it…taste it. Bury the hatchet, Sheppard said. I don't know what a hatchet is, but I want to bury it Michael's…no, in that Wraith's chest. The fire in me wants to see his pain, feel his blood on my hands…watch him die. Just like his kind slaughtered mine. Sheppard's people may make him look human, treat him like a human…want him to be human… but he's not.
He's a Wraith. He was born one, and if I have my way, I'll make sure he dies as one.
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Challenged: last scene in The Long Goodbye...1 drabble each on what Caldwell, Sheppard and Weir are all thinking
Weir:
Vague memories come to me. The screams, the insults…the defiance. I can still feel her, controlling…conquering. She took me, and I was powerless to stop her. Helpless as she hunted John, preyed on my team…nearly killed them all. She knew she was dead. She had nothing to loose. She took no pains to hide that much from me. All that mattered to her was retribution; fulfilling her vengeful quest at the cost of anything and everything else.
My gaze settles on Caldwell…and finds a perceptive look on his face. He sees it in my eyes…
I know how he feels.
Sheppard:
"I can safely say, I know how you feel."
His words strike me like a blast of cold water. Guilt forces my gaze away from him.
I never trusted him. From the moment that snake showed itself, I didn't…I couldn't trust him. They told me he was himself again, but yet, something kept me from believing.
He knew it. I could tell by looking at him…and when he looked at me. He never said anything, but he knew.
I look back at him. In his expression I see understanding. He knows what I've been through.
I know how he feels.
Caldwell:
The change is drastic, especially in Sheppard. Where I'd grown used to seeing distrust and suspicion, I now saw understanding and even guilt.
I've accepted what happened to me…at least as much as I ever can, but I've had longer. I know what they're feeling…and they'll take it in stride, in time.
A sense of relief flows through me. They finally know. I'd tried to convince them I could be trusted. They'd placated me with words, but their expressions always showed their true suspicions.
Weir hid it better than Sheppard, but I still saw it…felt the tension when I entered the room, bore the awkwardness of every conversation.
Now I see understanding. They truly know what I went through, what I was forced to do… how I had no control over anything. I smile, easing the tension between us. At last we have common ground.
They know how I feel.
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Prominte
Challenged: What does Radek do and think to get ready to go after Rodney in Grace Under Pressure?
Laptop…check.
Datapad…check.
I reach for my jacket, my hand passing over the bright Atlantis badge adorning its shoulder. The expedition…the team; we all rely on each other for our survival. He's my friend and I have to help him. Half the time I'm near him, I just want to kill him…but still he's my friend…and he's in trouble.
I supervised the repairs. I told Rodney the Jumper was ready to fly, I…
It was supposed to be me…but I…I can't even swim, and I hate to fly. The thought scares me and now…
Promiňte, Rodney. I will help you.
Note:
Promiňte: "I'm sorry." Czech
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Leaders
(Critical Mass)
Elizabeth's hand absently passed over the statuette on the corner of her desk. What have I done? Have I gone too far? Crossed that line? "Where are my values now?"
Her muttered words were meant only for her ears, but they found someone else's.
"With your people, as they have always been."
Elizabeth looked up, meeting Teyla's shrewd gaze.
"A leader often sacrifices much for the sake of her people," Teyla continued, "it is the burden we shoulder."
Kinship…strength. In Teyla Elizabeth found then both. Her own worst critic, Elizabeth embraced the understanding support. "For our people," she smiled slightly.
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Remembrance
A USA Memorial Day Holiday double drabble...
John stepped back from the railing, watching the setting sun flirt with the distant horizon. A warm, spring breeze blew the collar of his jacket against his neck. His thoughts wandered. This day held meaning for him. He'd lost friends, companions, and teammates before. He tried not to dwell on it, but this day, he always allowed himself a moment to remember. Mitch… Dex. Those two names always sprung to mind, but this year, as last year, more names were added to that list. Sumner, Markham, Smith, Walker, Stevens… The full list played through his mind, each name holding meaning… each name representing an ultimate sacrifice.
Never one for poetry, John had once read a poem that stuck with him. Written by a World War I KIA, it's meaning was something his MENSA caliber mind never let it go.
The thundering line of battle stands,
And in the air death moans and sings;
But Day shall clasp him with strong hands,
And Night shall fold him in soft wings.
John straightened. Slowly… deliberately he snapped off a salute as the sun finally sank from sight. A tribute. Not only for those he knew, but also for all his fallen kin.
Poem by Julian Grenfell; KIA 1915. Also found in my story "Tribute"
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Return
(Pre-Season 3 drabble in response to promo shots of Sheppard in that leather jacket! Guh!)
It felt good to be back on Atlantis. Her gaze found Sheppard. Unnoticed, she was still mesmerized.
Sheppard's gate was relaxed as he walked down the hallway. Gone was the standard lightweight jacket he'd always sported, replaced by a smooth, black leather jacket that accentuated his rugged good looks to the point of distraction. An Atlantis badge adorning the shoulder marked it as standard gear, but she'd never seen a soldier look like that!
Unnoticing, he passed her, a light whiff of leather following him. She watched him go; and loved doing it.
Yes, it was good to be back.
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Sacrifice
(A drabble for Childhood's End)
It is our way. For generations we have lived and died by this commitment and the Wraith have left us alone: a human herd too young for culling.
I do this for my people... for my soul. To ensure the herd is always too young to be culled... to have eternal rest.
But he's different. Much older than twenty-four, with a love of life in every compelling word he says. I feel his experience... his wisdom. I wonder if my people could achieve such things, if we lived long enough.
I must sacrifice...
Yet his words force me to listen.
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Warmth
(Double drabble for Shep's new leather coat!)
A warm weight settled on her shoulders, accompanied by a reassuring grip on her arms and the feel of strong hands warming her chilled skin.
"Cold?"
The voice from behind her was comforting, but tinged with concern.
Elizabeth inhaled deeply, the smell of the leather jacket mixing with the strong musk of the man who had worn it. She pulled the jacket tighter around her chilled body, trying to ward off the damp air that surrounded them. "A little."
Strong, bare arms wrapped around her. Her eyes widened. "John, you only have a t-shirt on." She instantly felt guilty for taking his coat, when she already had her light windbreaker on. "Take it back." She tried to push it off her shoulders, only to be stopped by his close body.
"I'll be fine, keep it."
His voice was confident. Elizabeth pushed one hand out from under its leather protection and gently grabbed his arm. Warm, firm skin greeted her cold touch.
"Told you so. Now stop arguing."
Elizabeth pulled her hand back under cover and leaned into his warm body, reassured as John's embrace tightened.
"They'll find us, you know."
She nodded, taking comfort in his convinced voice. "I know."
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Warrior's Flame
(The response to a challenge to write a Sheyla drabble...never one to turn down a challenge! )
John saw it the first time he met her. The depth of her soul, the strength of her spirit. She was a woman of substance; nothing about her was superficial. She'd looked him straight in the eye, every bit his equal.
Gentle in the quiet times, a fighting soul burned strongly within her, tempered by wisdom beyond her years. A deep passion for life lay just under the surface, fortifying her every action. He felt it: warrior to warrior… irresistible. Her lips quenched a desire he'd had from the moment he'd first laid eyes on her. Instantly, he was complete.
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Cats and Scientists
"It's like herding cats!"
John ignored the twinge from his casted leg and settled further into his bed. He cocked an amused eyebrow.
"Oh just... stop! Don't give me that look!" Rodney glared. "When you busted your leg skateboarding and Elizabeth went back to Earth I gladly stepped up to run things! What was I thinking?"
John watched Rodney pace, his rant in full swing.
"They're like a big bunch of kids! Petty demands, whiny attitudes!" Panting, Rodney paused.
John swallowed a chuckle. "Leadership isn't all its cracked up to be, is it?"
Rodney's glare turned ice cold. "Very funny."
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ummm... silly mood?
Chocolate Surprise
John tried not to laugh; the only thing suppressing it was the thought of McKay's unerring capacity to turn his annoyance factor up tenfold. "A little sticky, Rodney?"
McKay's glare was as dignified as a person could look with chocolate sauce dripping from his face. "Why don't you step closer and I'll show you!"
"Oh God, Dr... McKay..." Dr. Novak hiccupped, her expression mortified. "I didn't...
"Shouldn't you be on the Daedalus?" Rodney snapped. He stalked from the mess muttering something about chocolate and clumsy doctors.
John kept smiling at Dr. Novak in spite of her hiccups. "Well done, Doctor."
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Follow up for Chocolate Surprise
A Case of Nerves
John rounded the corner, his reflexes the only thing saving him from an embarrassing accident. He reached out, steadying the scientist as she fell heavily against him and dropped her data pad. "Whoa! Easy!"
"I'm sorry!"
He held her arm a minute longer. "No problem, Doctor…" he snapped his fingers. "Novak." He smiled warmly.
"Colonel… Sheppard…."
John's smile faded slightly as her voice hitched. "You okay, Doctor?"
"Hiccups." Her voice hitched again. "Nervous…." Another hitch. "Damn!" Looking mortified she covered her mouth. "I'm sorry… sir."
John's smile turned amused. He picked up her data pad. "Buy you a glass of water?"
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New Coffee
John stared in amazement at Rodney, vaguely reminded of an auctioneer.
"So the power output of the ZedPM..."
"Rodney," Elizabeth gently but vainly interrupted.
"...is directly proportional..."
John scowled. "McKay!"
Rodney blinked twice, quickly. "What?" His fingers tapped on his thigh.
"We're three slides behind you," Elizabeth chastised quietly.
"Three?" Rodney's brows furrowed.
John's gaze narrowed. "Just how much coffee have you had?"
"No more than usual." Rodney fidgeted.
John glanced at Elizabeth.
"French Roast in the mess," she whispered.
John grabbed his leather jacket and headed for the door. "Let me know when McKay comes down a couple notches."
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Strength
(I keep getting sparky challenged! LOL)
The voices around her were disconnected… disjointed. The deep, persistent call of oblivion caught her.
"Elizabeth."
The voice was quiet… pleading, and she found strength in it.
"Elizabeth, listen to me. Stay awake."
She wanted to. His tone was soft… gently insisting. She'd never been able to resist it. Until now…
She faded.
"Elizabeth!"
The voice was harder, more insistent… begging. She'd never heard him beg before. The wrongness of his despair fueled her strength. Her eyes fluttered open and found his. "John."
"Stay with me," he insisted. "Atlantis needs you…"
His gentle hand stroked her head.
"I need you."
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The other half of Strength
Despair
She was so pale… so still, her hold on life slipping. He was damned if he was going to lose her now. His grip on her hand tightened. "Elizabeth." Heart pleading for her response, his other hand came up, joining the first. "Elizabeth, listen to me. Stay awake."
Her fluttering eyelids stilled. Panic strangled him. No! Fear and despair filled his voice. "Elizabeth!" Please
Her eyes opened. "John."
Soft strength from her whispered voice heartened him. "Stay with me. Atlantis needs you…"
He'd glimpsed life without her and startled, he realized she filled a void within him. "I need you."
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Partners
(Drabble for Misbegotten)
Elizabeth smiled as John quickly left her office. Why John Sheppard, are you defending my honor?
Though covered with an easy excuse, his moment of surprise wasn't lost on her. Her smile turned fond.
She knew John Sheppard didn't give his trust often or easily and his loyalty even less.
They'd been through more then she ever imagined and somehow, she'd grown to just know that loyalty was there, even if she'd never consciously recognized it. But now, seeing his reaction to Woolsey, the IOA... her, she knew. Hard earned, she'd won that loyalty and trust and she treasured it.
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Questions
(Irresistible)
John rested his hands on the Deck railing. "Lucius was… interesting."
"That's an understatement." Elizabeth looked away.
His grip tightened. "He made you all do a lot of things you wouldn't do…" he grimaced, his voice trailing off.
"Yes, he did." Blush touched her cheeks. Sighing, she dropped her head.
John faced her. "It's none of my business but did he… that is did you…"
Her gaze narrowed. "John?"
"Well, he did want you to be his seventh wife…" he swallowed, "or was Teyla number seven and you eight…"
Her expression turned amused. "You're right. It's none of your business."
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It is cannon that Rodney played piano as a kid. Can't see why he wouldn't still have the hobby. Double drabble...
Just Between Friends
John couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. It was the last thing he'd expected to hear in the pre-dawn quiet that blanketed Atlantis but, more than that, seated in front of the piano was the last person he ever expected to see.
Rodney's hands floated effortlessly over the keyboard, coaxing soothing melodies from the baby grand and sending them echoing off the high ceilings. Oblivious to anything but the piano, Rodney had his eyes closed as he gently rocked back and forth.
John smiled and quietly eased into a chair. Stripped of its usual arrogant mask, Rodney's face was serene, showing the real Rodney McKay who always lurked within.
The song finished, Rodney opened his eyes, his serenity lingering.
John held his smile as Rodney caught sight of him, Rodney's expression instantly hardened.
"It's late, what are you doing here?" he snapped.
"Actually, it’s just really early," John leaned back and crossed his arms. He nodded once at the piano. "Nice."
"Yes, well," Rodney fidgeted, "I didn't know anyone was listening."
John's expression turned understanding. "Your secret is safe with me." His tone meant much more than knowing Rodney played.
This time, it was Rodney's turn to smile. "Thanks."
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Follow up to "Just Between Friends." McKay and Mrs. Miller
Art
The notes faded and Rodney sat back from the piano.
"Mer," Jeanie whispered, "that was beautiful."
Rodney fidgeted. "Yes, uhh, thanks." He glanced at her fondly.
Jeanie smiled. "Mr. Thornton would be proud."
He looked away, remembering his piano instructor's words: A fine, clinical player…
"I hear music, Mer. Not just technical precision. You've been practicing."
Memories flooded him. Using lightning to power Atlantis' shield; that hair-brained scheme with the Orion's hyperdrive; entering a stasis pod to talk to ten thousand year old Ancients… Science is as much an art as anything…
"Mer?"
Rodney smiled. "I learned the art, Jeanie."
Notes:
SG1: 6x02
McKay:
" I always wanted to be a concert pianist."
"Music was my salvation. It had this… perfect order for me."
"When I was 12, my teacher told me to quit. A fine, clinical player, he said, but no sense of the art whatsoever."
"I turned to science because I thought it would be different than music, but It isn't. It's just the same, it's just as much of an art as anything else."
"You're an artist, Major.(Carter) Maybe the best I've ever seen. I'm just critical because I'm jealous."
SGAFan: Somewhere along the way, Rodney found the ability to think outside the box and come up with hair-brained but brilliant schemes to save the day.
He found his sense of art. Stands to reason this would permeate more of his life than just his work. :)
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I wrote this double drabble a few months back for two very good friends. Thought I'd share it...
Friends
"Something's bothering you." John stuffed his hands deep in his pockets and waited. He nodded slightly at the sound of Ronon's typical and non-committal grunt. "Don't want to talk about it, huh?"
Another grunt.
John's brows quirked. "So, something really is bothering you." A moment of humor passed through him as the grunt took on a note of annoyance. "You really should get it off your chest, you know."
The grunt turned to a growl.
John lifted a placating hand. "Okay, all right, I get it. You don't want to talk. I'm not going to force you…" his brows furrowed, "not that I think I could anyway…." He turned and started to walk away.
"Sheppard."
John smiled briefly before forcing a neutral look to his face and turning around. "What?" His brows arched in feigned innocence; a look he immediately knew Ronon didn't buy.
"Why are you doing this?" Ronon crossed his arms and stared back.
John cleared his throat quietly. "Because everyone needs to unload once in a while." He smiled slightly at Ronon's neutral grunt.
"Maybe you're right," Ronon answered quietly.
John sauntered back to the tall Satedan. "Wanna talk about it?"
Ronon looked at John and smiled.
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Follow up drabble to "Friends"
Haunted
Ronon's smile faded. "Not really."
"Okay," John's reply was non-committal. He silently stared out across the water.
"She would've been twenty-eight today," Ronon said quietly.
"Who?" John's gaze narrowed.
"Melena. My wife." Ronon's voice hitched slightly.
John couldn't keep the shock from his face. "Your wife?" His gaze fell to Ronon's white knuckled hands. "How..."
"When the Wraith destroyed Sateda."
John looked away, his mind reeling. "I don't know what to say," he admitted quietly.
"That's okay." Ronon's voice was equally quiet.
Arms folded over the railing, he stood next to Ronon and watched the sun slip beyond the horizon.
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Common Ground
Ending
It's gone.
I feel the last glimmers of life fading from my body; stolen by him. I can't move... can't save myself and coldly I realize I don't want to. There is nothing left to save. The remaining years of my life are gone. I know the hollow look that now must shadow my eyes. I've seen it before and at long last, I know the suffering that would drive a man to wish for his death.
I hear the Wraith approaching and with him agony... the same suffering I saved another from.
I wish someone was there for me.
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Double drabble. It just didn't work any shorter... I tried! Common Ground.
Inspired by the scene where Shep throws a knife to kill one of the Genii.
Skills
"Just how many do you carry, anyway?" John watched Ronon pull a knife from his belt sheath.
"Enough." Ronon casually flipped it in the air before holding firmly to the blade. "It's all in the wrist." He effortlessly threw the knife at the target, smiling slightly as it hit dead center with a resounding thud.
John stared dubiously at the knife in his hand. "The wrist... right." Trying to mimic Ronon's actions he threw, grimacing as it hit the target and clattered to the floor.
"Wrong." Ronon's reply was tinged with amusement. He narrowed his gaze at John. "They never taught you to throw?"
John walked to the target and with a couple strong pulls freed Ronon's knife. He bent and picked up his. "Nope, too much room for error if you throw it, then you're unarmed."
"Doesn't help when your enemy is twenty feet away pointing a gun at you," Ronon grumbled.
"True." John smiled and handed the blade to Ronon.
"Why'd you want to learn?" Ronon threw again with deadly accuracy.
"Thought it would be cool," John shrugged. "The wrist... He threw, his smile turning to a grin as the blade lodged itself firmly into the target.
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I stumbled onto a discussion on Gateworld about the commentaries from Rising. Apparently, JF mentioned that not many people know, but Shep kept Sumner's dog tags in his room to remind him of what he'd done. He thought it was very "Sheppard" to have them.
Now, how can I resist drabbling THAT?! ;)
Never Forget
The memory was seared in his mind. It haunted him. His tightening grip pressed the cool tags into his palm. He'd fired the shot; it'd been his decision. One he now lived with. The image of Sumner, his eyes glazed with inescapable death, haunted John, but he bore its weight.
Opening his hand he allowed the tags to dangle. He scanned the room. A rough corner of Ancient architecture caught his gaze. Carefully looping the chain over it, John stepped back. Prominent against the dark background, the silver tags reflected the dim light.
He'd never forget... he never wanted to.
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My friend, TS, poked me to explain WHY Sheppard would take Sumner's dog tags in Rising...
Vow
You don't leave people behind.
The belief ingrained within him echoed in his ears. He heard Ford, insisting that they escape, but yet he couldn't tear his eyes from Sumner's body.
He'd taken the ultimate action... ended the colonel's suffering. He couldn't just leave him behind.
John pulled Sumner's dog tags from his neck. If he somehow made it back and the colonel had family, they were owed closure. No body to bury, but John damn sure wasn't going to leave them empty handed.
He pocketed the tags, took the proffered side arm from Ford and ran from the room.
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A little dark and a little violent so minor warning here...
Caged
The knife felt cold... heavy in his hand. John's grip tightened. They wouldn't hurt her, he wouldn't let them.
His team was with him, covering his six, but he still felt alone. He carried the burden of death; of ending lives, squarely on his shoulders.
Caged deep inside, an ominous anger rattled against his self control, much as it always did; but this time, backed in a corner, he opened the cage and gladly surrendered to the dark beast within. Steel-hard anger consumed him, ripping away the witty, easy-going persona he often wore.
It burst from the trees, cold gaze focused on the prey. It’s free hand found the throat of a startled enemy. It slashed the knife across the Genii soldier's throat and It stared into the dying eyes of the hated as flecks of blood splattered It’s face...
It turned and gazed at her as the team disposed of the others.
"John?" Her uncertain voice held a note of fear as her dark eyes searched for him.
He looked away for a moment, forcing the beast back into its cage. His expression softened. He was John Sheppard again.
He saw her relax at the same realization. "Elizabeth."
Not sure how this came about, except that from the beginning (literally in Rising) I've noticed that while he fights a lot, sometimes John Sheppard is more ruthless a fighter than other times (as seen in The Storm/Eye, 3x2, 3x7...) there is a dark aspect to him that he's very good at keeping under wraps, unless he really needs it, then he's capable of a deatched and ruthless brand of fighting. And you can see, especially in Siege I and The Storm, its almost something he "turns on"; there are defining moments where this mask of dark anger falls over his face. Awesome acting by JF. ;)
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Prompted by a friend who wanted a drabble of Sheppard and Vala meeting either before or after the briefing room scene from SG1: Pegasus Project.
Meeting
He couldn't keep the smile from his face, nor would he want to. Tall... curved... dark hair... Forcing a neutral expression, John met her group at the top of the control room stairs.
A corner of his mouth turned up at the spark of mischief in her eyes.
"It IS a shallow gene pool," she purred.
Discomfort replaced his pleasure as she circled him. He arched a brow at her expression of frank approval.
"Good thing I like dark, rugged and sexy." A wide smile sprang to her face.
John fought a blush on his neck. Oh yeah, she's trouble...
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Phantoms
No Win
"Shep...?"
John tried to smile. "Stay with me. You owe me two rounds in Kandahar, remember?"
"And testimony at... your court martial..." Holland's eyes closed.
"Yeah," John muttered. The distant but growing thumping of a chopper blade... the squawking voice on his radio... neither of them mattered now. "Holland?" Panic flared within him. "Dammit, don't you do this!"
Medics arrived. Numbly, he watched them work, knowing they were too late. Halfway to Kandahar, the blanket pulled over Holland's head confirmed it.
All for nothing. Two MPs met him as he stepped from the chopper.
"Major Sheppard? Come with us, sir."
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Blame the Sparky attack for this one... LOL "Something fall-ish/winter-ish would be cool!"
Snow and balconies anyone?
Snow
"You like it?" John couldn't quite keep the surprise from his voice.
Elizabeth blinked away snowflakes. "I was raised in upstate New York." She tipped her head back. "I love it. You?"
He smiled. "Not all of Nevada is hot. I spent a lot of time skiing Diamond Peak."
"By yourself?" Her eyes took on a mischievous look.
Light snow dusted his hair, but he ignored it. "That's no fun in a warm, cozy ski lodge." He wrapped his coat around her thinly clad shoulders. "Still haven't found the right peak for skiing here."
She grinned. "Or a ski lodge?"
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Written in response to my cable going out and general computer problems... this was the inspiration for my story "The John Sheppard Book on Computer Repair"
Solutions
"Just... Stop! You're not helping!"
John paused, poised, his hand in the air, ready to again smack the computer tower. "Yeah, I am," his voice was slightly indignant. He cocked a brow as Rodney's expression soured.
"Everything's a military solution in John Sheppard's world," he replied sarcastically. "Physical violence and computers go together like Kavanaugh and Weir!"
"Works for me," John muttered.
"And you back this theory with... what?"
John smiled mischievously. "John Sheppard Book of Computer Repair, page two: When in doubt, hit it."
Rodney's shoulders sagged and he looked away. "I'm SO not dignifying that with an answer."
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TS challenged me for a follow up to A Case of Nerves: "Think he can frighten the hiccups away by giving her a shock?"(Sheppard meets Dr. Novak)
There's only one shock I can think of that could possibly frighten away her hiccups as unrealistic as it may or may not be ;)
Surprise
"Hiccups better, Doctor?" John stopped outside the lab.
"No... Colonel," she managed.
"John." He smiled. "Thought the water would help." He faced her. "Why are you nervous?" John arched his brows as a flush touched her cheeks.
"Lindsey. They... just... stick with... me." Her hiccups intensified.
John's smile turned mischievous. "They say a good surprise can scare them away." He gently cupped her chin and kissed her tenderly. His lips lingered on her willing ones for a moment before he pulled back and watched her normal, if fast, breathing and how the flush had deepened. "Gone?"
She smiled shyly. "Gone."
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Team
(Sateda)
First it was Ford. Young and enthusiastic. A better soldier never watched my six. He was a member of my team, charged to my care, yet I failed to protect him.
Then it was Ronon. Hardened and dangerous. With him on my six I knew I was covered. He never said much, but to me his loyalty was unquestioned. He proved that, but never more than today.
The rough hands of the villagers pull me unwillingly away. First Ford, now Ronon.
You don't leave people behind…
I've lost one already. I'll be damned if I'm going to lose the other.
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Challenged by the Sheyla brigade. (hey, I have friends on both sides of the fence. LOL) Echoes.
Understanding
He smiled and watched her lace her boots before standing. "Carson let you go?"
Teyla nodded, her expression warm. "Yes. I am fine."
"I'm glad." John looked away. "Teyla, I..."
"John?"
He found comfort in her voice and her gaze that found his. "I wanted to be here, but..." his voice trailed off as she raised her hand slightly.
"You are a leader of this city, John. You did what was necessary... for everyone."
He stroked her cheek tenderly, his touch lingering as her hand found his. Words passed through his mind, but instead he was satisfied with silent understanding.
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Drabble inspired by the last infirmary scene in 3x15: Tao of Rodney, where Teyla is standing next to Rodney's bed with her hands folded in front of her almost in some sort of pose. I thought it was a curious pose for her...
Worth
Teyla stared into Rodney's glazed eyes. Death stalked him. She did not need Beckett's machines to know.
To be courted by a peaceful death was rare. For the fortunate it was a sacred moment, shared with family. Silently, Teyla embraced the tradition of her people.
Spirits of the Ancestors, take this man into your fold, for his heart is good and his spirit pure. Welcome him. He is worthy.
The knowledge of the Ancestors that surrounded her, dispelled much of their mythical qualities, yet her upbringing rang true. She stared at Rodney as his eyes slid shut.
He is worthy.
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Drabble for Sateda
Teyla's thoughts on John's moment of sincerity...
Scars
He'd been hesitant; not willing to open up... to let anyone close to him. Carefully hidden behind a casual front, his scars were intimate and ran deep. Still, she'd always known they were there.
Teyla looked at her hand, the warmth of his grip still lingering in her fingers. His strength was forged by independence, and her admiration for it ran deep. But one was stronger when supported by friends and family. With quiet joy, she'd watched him find that support from his team, from Atlantis.
She smiled. The words he'd said paled in comparison to the ones he'd kept inside.
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Drabble for Phantoms
Loyalty
"Sir?"
John stared hard at the young sergeant. "I'm taking this bird on orders of Colonel Hilliard. You have a problem with that, Sergeant?"
"No, Sir!"
The sergeant snapped a salute, as John trotted to the waiting chopper. He jammed the helmet on his head and fired up the engines. Won't take them long to figure out what's going on…He pulled back on the yoke as a commanding voice came over the radio.
"Major Sheppard, stand down! That's a direct order!"
John winced at the tone of command in Colonel Hilliard's voice… then switched off the radio.
Coming buddy!
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Drabble for Phantoms
Persistence
Damn RPG!
He'd planned this so perfectly. Fly in, find Holland, fly out. Simple. "Lucky shot," he muttered. John's grip on his P-90 tightened as he scrabbled up a sand dune.
What the hell was he doing here, against orders, anyway?
Holland.
With stark clarity he knew exactly why. They'd flown too many ops together… downed too many drinks at the O-Club afterwards for John to leave him to die in the desert while a bunch of bureaucrats discussed political impact.
"Damn it, Holland," John looked around before starting down the lee side of the dune. "You better be alive."
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Drabble for Phantoms:
Duty
The woods felt oddly quiet.
John's pace slowed, as the camouflaged shelter came into view. He could still see the desperation in Leonard's face; feel the force of the grenade against his back. John slowly turned away from the shelter and swallowed against the sight that greeted him. He moved towards the remains of Leonard's body, blunt determination driving him.
There wasn't much left; the grenade had seen to that, but Leonard's family was owed something and as his CO, John would make sure they had it. He knelt, slipped his knife under the dog tag's chain and pulled gently.
Note: An instant before he hallucinated hearing desert vehicles and an moment after Leonard committed suicide, Sheppard says "I gotta get his tags..." Presumably umm... there wasn't much left besides the tags to take back...
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New Year
The cheers were lost behind him as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back tightly against his chest. "Happy New Year," John muttered into her hair as the flashes of Atlantis' fireworks reflected off the surface of the ocean.
His hands migrated to her shoulders and he turned her to face him. He tilted his head and brushed his lips over hers. One hand slid to the small of her back as he pulled her tightly to him and deepened the kiss.
The spectacle over Atlantis was lost to the fireworks of passion that burst inside him.
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Drabble for Sateda. I always found Caldwell's reaction to Weir's statement about leaving people behind to be very interesting. He's always so collected, even when arguing, that the pure anger that showed in him for one moment, when he told her not to preach to him about leaving people behind, really struck a note with me. It feels like there was something in his past that sensitized him to the it...
Harshness of Reality
Vietnam: February 1969
"We can't just leave them!"
"Captain!"
Standing toe to toe with his CO, Captain Steven Caldwell fell silent, but the burning anger... the frustration that coursed through him filled his gaze.
"They're most likely dead." Colonel Merritt's voice held a note of understanding. "An Loc is swarming with Cong." He turned away. "We need every pilot and aircraft we have to repel the offensive. I can't risk you or your crew."
"Colonel..." Steven pushed down desperation. They were his friends. They'd all flown ops together and canvassed more establishments in Saigon than he'd care to admit.
Merritt spun to face him. "Request denied, Captain! Dismissed!"
Anger surged through him, but Steven bit back his retort. He snapped a salute to his CO and stormed from his office.
You don't leave people behind. He grabbed a chair in the hallway and flung it against the wall.
Never again.
Notes:
1. An Loc is/was a town, just north of Saigon near the Cambodian border.
2. From PBS online:
Februrary 22, 1969: In a major offensive, assault teams and artillery attack American bases all over South Vietnam, killing 1,140 Americans. At the same time, South Vietnamese towns and cities are also hit. The heaviest fighting is around Saigon, but fights rage all over South Vietnam. Eventually, American artillery and airpower overwhelm the Vietcong offensive.
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Break (drabble for The Eye. inspired by Rodney's cut arm in The Eye and his admission that he told Kolya the plan even when he didn't want to...)
Sheppard wouldn't say anything…
Rodney swore anyone within ten feet could hear his heart pounding as Kolya moved closer.
"I'll ask you one more time, Dr. McKay. What are you doing here?"
Rodney's gaze fixed on the gleaming edge of the knife in Kolya's hand. "I… I told you. We're just wrapping things up." Sheppard wouldn't break… no matter what…
Kolya moved so fast Rodney never realized what happened… until he heard himself cry out as pain tore through his arm.
"You're lying."
The words… the plan tumbled from his mouth and deep inside guilt swarmed over him.
I'm sorry!
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Drabble for Vegas.
I was struck by McKay speaking of how one event can alter the course of a man's life... that got me thinking... always dangerous.
Timelines in alternate realties don't always have to synch, so many infinite decisions that can alter when events occur or even if they do, altering the course of a person's life....
A pair of related drabbles... (along with a verse from my VERY FAVORITE poem of all time....)
I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I- I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.
~The Road Not Taken - Robert Frost
Branches
He didn’t even get to see her off; travel with her back home… attend her funeral. She’d been whisked away, the details of her death buried in ‘national security’… right along with the story of her failed rescue.
He hadn’t meant to hurt anyone… except maybe the damned Taliban who had her. He knew what the Taliban did to women, how they treated them, tortured them and killed them. He had to try…
… and yet she’d still died and with her too many others.
The Brigadier reads his sentence, but only a few words sink in. Dishonorable Discharge…
*****************
John wasn’t fooled for a second. In spite of the low chuckles of passing coalition soldiers, the mood on base was tense. He glanced at his newly assigned co-pilot, Captain Holland. “Is it always like this here?”
“Lots of tough missions lately.” Holland pointed towards Kandahar’s airfield.
John watched as a shiny black coffin draped with an American flag was carefully loaded onboard a transport.
“She was a damned good medic,” Holland offered. "Shot down behind enemy lines. Only one on her team to die.”
John shook his head slightly. “Damn shame,” he muttered. Without another word, he walked away.
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I had a friend early on in the SGA fandom who was truly gifted at graphic art. She designed the zine cover for my zine novel Shades of Gray as well.
She was a Sparky too. Loved Weir and Sheppard together. She made this absolutely lovely piece and asked me to write a drabble for it. While I normally don’t ship, I couldn’t resist it. It was just gorgeous and I was flattered to be asked. This is the drabble for it.
But if you want to see the entire project together, it is here: http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v222/SGAFan/misc%20stuff/seamless.jpg~original
Seamless
He is her strength. He nourishes her spirit. She wonders if he realizes how much.
She is his fulfillment. She completes a part of him he never knew was lacking. With her, he realizes how empty life was before.
He is her comfort. His easygoing spirit soothes hers. She keenly feels it in their moments of tranquil contentment.
She is his partner. He was used to being on his own, but she challenged his lonely path. Her quiet strength is indomitable. It fuels him.
Together, the seamless merge of their two spirits is greater than the sum of each apart.
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Tag for the end of The Return II
Discipline -
“Of all the lame assed, bone headed crap to pull, Sheppard…”
“Sir,” John started.
“Shut up! I’m not done yet!” O’Neill stopped toe to toe with him.
John looked away. Antarctica was starting looking good… if he was lucky.
“You ever… EVER do something like this again, I’ll lead the cheer squad at your court martial and personally drop kick your insubordinate ass out of the Air Force!” O’Neill pointed emphatically at him. “Have I made myself clear, Colonel?”
“Crystal, sir.” John’s gaze narrowed as O’Neill’s expression abruptly turned wry. He’d read enough SGC mission reports to know a little about O’Neill. One side of John’s mouth twitched and he took a chance. “Nice speech, sir.”
O’Neill grinned smugly. “Thank you, Colonel. I’ve been practicing it all morning.” He took a step closer to John, his face sobering. “Don’t think I wouldn’t do it though.”
John dropped his head. “Yes, sir.”
O’Neill stepped back. “Atlantis’ command is yours.” He walked a few steps away only to stop, turn and give a deadpan look to John. “Try not to screw it up. I don’t want to have to come back here and fire you.”
John smiled and nodded once. “Yes, sir.”
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Yes. I was challenged to write a Sparky drabble. LOL
Fashion
His feather light touch tracing up her arm sent tingles all the way to her toes. Elizabeth drew in a cleansing breath, her forehead gently coming to rest against his. He gently played with the odd shaped neck of her top.
“I never liked this shirt,” he groused quietly. Hazel eyes met her green ones. “Does nothing to show how beautiful you are.”
She smiled. “I can hardly walk around topless.”
“I wouldn’t mind,” he teased against her lips.
Lost in his kiss she barely felt him relieve her of the shirt before he enveloped her in his strong embrace.
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Drabble for Tao of Rodney after Rodney heals Ronon’s scars.
Honor Among Friends
The mirror wasn’t very helpful, but Ronon knew what he was looking for and could see enough to know it wasn’t there.
His fingers brushed the smooth skin on his back and found no roughness… no reminder.
His hand lingered and his thoughts turned to McKay.
Are those a badge of honor for you?
He had never considered it, but he and McKay never thought the same on almost everything. His eyes crinkled slightly. It no longer mattered. Ronon had few friends and, while unexpected, he now counted Rodney as one of them.
He smiled and slowly lowered his hand.
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Last Request
“Shep…” Holland’s voice held a note of acceptance.
John staunchly looked away, denying the inevitable. His brows knitted in frustrated pain. “What?” He forced a light tone.
“Leanne… you tell her…”
John swallowed hard. “Mark…”
“John!” Holland’s rasped, “please.”
He stared at Holland. He knew the plea was a dying one, even if he refused to accept that, but the odds of him fulfilling the request…
He inhaled deeply. “I promise.” His whispered words fell on deaf ears.
One hand closed lifeless eyes, while the other grabbed bloodstained dog tags; the one thing he could give the fallen man’s wife.
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Drabble tag for Common Ground
Reunion
Her data pad stylus slipped from her fingers as John approached her office. There was no trace of feeding, no sign of years lost. But his eyes... they held a hardness they hadn’t had before and she knew, inside, he carried scars.
Elizabeth shut out harsh memories, but the images of John’s body straining against the bonds as the Wraith fed, she couldn’t shake.
Her emotions surged as she walked to him. “John I...”
“You did the right thing.”
His confident voice bolstered her. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, and relished the feel of his warm embrace.
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Swift Vengeance
Being thrown backwards against a wall, John realized, hurt only slightly less than the gunshot that propelled him there in the first place.
“Sheppard!”
The crack in Rodney’s voice did nothing to boost John’s confidence as he slid to the floor. Damn Genii ambush... the thought raced across his mind. Darkness crept into his vision as unconsciousness made a bid for control. He blinked hard. In a disconnected way he heard Ronon’s blaster and Teyla’s P-90... but they were too late for him. Then a hand pressed into his side and tore a pain filled cry from him.
“Oh God, sorry! But, I can’t... I mean, I have to...”
Rodney was dangerously close to babbling and John found his voice. “S’okay...” he managed, slowly losing his fight for consciousness, “... have to...” His eyes slid shut.
“Sheppard! John!”
His last thought was Rodney had never used his first name before.
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This week, I thought I'd post a great many of the drabbles I wrote over the years. Some of them were inspired by episodes, some by caps, some challenges from other people and some just bit me and demanded to be written.
Hopefully I did not duplicate any of them but I had to cobble them together from several locations and posts on ff.net and on my hard drive. LOL
For those that don't know, a drabble is a story that is exactly 100 words. No more, no less.
Most of these drabbles are 100 words, however there are a couple double drabbles. (sometimes the muse is NOT agreeable to 100 words!) ;) Though, most of the time I try to stay to 100 words. Its amazing how that practice really hones my muse and helps keep me from rambling too much when I'm writing stories. Forcing myself to tell a story in *exactly* 100 words is a great exercise!
Drabble Wallpaper pieces are not included. If you'd like to see those (drabble for a cap and turned into a wallpaper) you can view those on my LJ using the "drabble wallpapers" tag. :)
Where necessary, I added the POV, some notes on the drabble and why, and what episode, where applicable.
Enjoy!
Author's Notes:
The following chapters are a series of drabbles written for various Atlantis episodes from various seasons.
For those that don't know, a drabble is a story that is exactly 100 words. No more, no less.
Most of these drabbles are 100 words, however there are a couple double drabbles. (sometimes the muse is NOT agreeable to 100 words!) ;) Though, most of the time I try to stay to 100 words. It’s amazing how that practice really hones my muse and helps keep me from rambling too much when I'm writing stories. Forcing myself to tell a story in *exactly* 100 words is a great exercise!
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A drabble and half for 3x17. I've had this idea ever since I first watched the ep.
Armor
He had to dig to find it, but that's how he wanted it. Every time he opened his closet, he didn't need to be reminded. His hand closed over the dark blue dust cover and he slowly pulled the wardrobe bag from his closet. He stared at it a minute, before slowly lowering the zipper.
More times than he cared to remember he'd worn his dress blues and fewer times than was fair it'd been happy. It was his armor; the shield that kept him stoic, even in the face of grieving spouses, heartbroken parents and his own unrelenting pain.
How many times had he worn it? As he pulled the dust cover off he swore he could still see the long dried tearstain on left shoulder, left by Holland's wife. Invisible, the shadow of tears still marred his memory.
Mitch, Dex, Holland... Soldiers, all of them…
Until today.
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Changes
(Siege III Drabble - 100 words)
Sheppard stared hard at Ford, pouring as much command and assertiveness into his expression as he could muster. The hesitation…the defiance…the distrust, all of it shocked John. Ford followed orders. He was young, enthusiastic and absolutely reliable in a pinch…and followed orders.
Staring back at John was a young man Sheppard barely recognized. Beyond the eye, the expression…the overconfidence…the arrogance stunned John. His gaze narrowed slightly. This was not the lieutenant he knew, the soldier on his team, his friend. As the Jumper sped through the Atlantis Stargate, Sheppard wondered if he'd ever see the soldier he knew…his friend, again.
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Confident
(Condemned Drabble - 100 words)
He looked at McKay. Would Rodney really hold back? John wanted to dismiss the thought, but part of him still wondered. Ego? For sure. McKay had that in spades. But, risking their lives over it? John shook his head. Rodney wouldn't cross that line. He might hold back, only to charge in with a brilliant idea and save the day, but he'd never play with their lives like that. If push came to shove, Rodney would fix the jumper, if only to buy John and the rest of the team time to escape.
John nodded to himself, his trust reassured.
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Fear
(Runner Drabble, Ford POV - 100 words)
Can't they see it? See how strong I am? How much better I am? The Wraith are no match for me. Can you imagine an army of soldiers, just like me? We'd destroy the Wraith! I…I would get my revenge!
Oh God…what have I become? I can't stop it…can't control it! I almost shot McKay and…I couldn't stop myself!
The darkness stalks me. I can't escape it.
I fear it.
They do too. I can see it in their eyes. They fear me, don't trust me…are scared of me.
The darkness creeps back.
Can't they see how strong I am?
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Friendship
(Duet Drabble - 100 words)
He walked out of the infirmary. Definitely the strangest thing he'd ever seen. Relief worked its way into Sheppard's thoughts. He'd really thought McKay had fallen off the deep end on this one. John shook his head. There were a lot of things he didn't believe before stepping through the Stargate.
John smiled to himself. Maybe McKay would change, now that he had a little time with Cadman in his head.
John grinned. No way. McKay was McKay, and Sheppard doubted any force of nature could change that. John quirked an eyebrow…
…and he wouldn't have it any other way.
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Impressions
(Rising Drabble, Sheppard POV - 100 words) I was struck by this picture and Sheppard’s intense gaze on Weir, almost like he’s measuring her up. It was a tough cap to get, and a little fuzzy, but man! Look at that gaze! http://i2.photobucket.com/albums/y15/atlantisscreencaps/Season%201/Rising/WeirSheppard10HD.jpg~original
Knots of apprehension cramp his gut, the unknown staring back at him as a shimmering wormhole. But, more, he's doubtful. Doubtful a civilian diplomat has the strength to lead them into the unknown.
(Hold on, Colonel!
A strong voice, confident and true, demands his attention, and he gives it. He watches her grab her pack.
We go through together. Her voice rings with authority.
She looks back once, her expression resolute. Her back straight, stride purposeful, she disappears into the wormhole.
John smiled slightly, respect replacing doubt. She has the guts to lead them into the unknown….
And he'll follow.
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Last Wish
(Rising Double Drabble, Sheppard POV - 200 words)
He stares at me, his eyes pleading, hollow…dying.
I see one wish in his eyes, one desire, one desperate hope and it hits me like a shot of cold water. I turn away from it, my mind screaming its defiance. It goes against everything I believe, I honor and who I am. It's what he wants, but as I stare at him, my head shakes in defiance anyway. His gaze lingers on mine…
Shoot me now.
How can I deny him? His suffering? His dying wish? I can't save him, I know it, and even if I could, what would I be saving? I stare at the wilted remains of a strong man, and stark clarity comes to me.
Swallowing against my defiance, I find a reason…a justification to latch onto. Its what he wants…it’s his wish, and in cold reality, I realize not only that I can't save him, but it's a quick, merciful path to the ultimate outcome he's doomed to. Through the gun scope my gaze settles on her head…an easy shot. But his eyes…his silent plea is burned in my mind. I sight down her back, my aim settling on his heart.
I pull the trigger.
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Obsession
(Trinity Double Drabble, Sheppard POV - 200 words)
His eyes are wild…almost possessed…irrational.
He won't leave it, won't stop. He can't accept that he can't understand, can't fix what is wrong. He's like a pit bull; latched into something that he won't let go of. He's been this way ever since he first laid eyes on the laboratory. The quest to know, to understand…to solve the mystery drove him. To reach the unreachable, and bend it to his will, failure was never an option to him. He asked me to trust him, and swayed me with his passionate belief.
He won't listen now, can't see…can't accept that he doesn't understand. He stubbornly refuses to give in…his ego still trying to bend the unbendable to his will.
He refuses to listen to me, and part of me screams to leave, to get away, but I won't. I won't leave him.
He's betrayed my trust, put both our lives and half a solar system in danger. I'm so angry with him, and another part of me wants to beat some sense into his hard head. But I won't. I'll make him listen to me, make him see reason, and if I fail, we'll die together.
But I won't leave him.
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Promises
(Instinct Drabble - 100 words)
He packed his equipment. Rolling his shoulder tenderly, Carson winced. He had a few aches and pains from the Wraith attack…but it could've been worse.
Carson's hands settled on the hard case containing the last of his retrovirus samples. He paused, sighing. He'd just wanted to offer support, some hope…something to believe in to Ellia's father. Instead, they both were dead. Carson shook his head and secured the case's latches. He'd made a mistake…and a doozy of one at that.
Carson lifted the case and grabbed his laptop. He'd perfect it, make the retrovirus work…
…make their deaths mean something.
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Reckoning
(Trinity Drabble, McKay POV - 100 words)
He was alone, and rather preferred it that way. The warm sea breeze did nothing to sooth him as he stared at the rolling ocean.
He had given the order himself. It was happenstance…a moment of convenience. No second thoughts, no hesitation…and yet, a man was dead. It was necessary. Someone had to do it, and it couldn't be him. It had to be someone who knew the systems as well as he did…but not him. He was too busy; he couldn't do it…
…he sent Collins.
A member of his team had died…and he'd have to live with it.
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Resolve
(Siege II Drabble - 100 words)
"I have to…and you know it."
His gaze was imploring. There was a time, not long ago, when John Sheppard would've done what was right, regardless of what anyone else thought. But, John felt himself wanting her to understand…to say yes.
"Go."
Locked in a gaze with her, John held it one last moment. There was so much he wanted to say, to tell her…so much he'd come to admire. But, in that moment, no words came to him, and strangely enough, he realized he didn't need to say them anyway.
Resolve strengthened him. Turning he dashed up the stairs.
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Sacrifices
(Duet Drabble - 100 words)
He fired and clenched his teeth against the powerful gun's concussion. The Dart whined by him. They'd been spotted. If the Dart got away, their cover would be blown.
He had to stop it. He knew that, but somewhere in the back of his mind he thought of McKay and Cadman. The decision was unenviable at best…horrifying at worst, but John stuck to his choice…knowing that if they died, it would be yet another decision that would haunt him for the rest of his life.
He continued firing, watching as the Dart crashed to the ground.
He had stopped it.
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True Strength
(Lost Boys Drabble - 100 words)
She is evil.
She stares at me, her gaze desiring. I can feel my death approaching, its touch…cold. Yet I do not back down. Unwanted images of Sumner plague me. My fate is the same, yet no one is there with a merciful bullet. The thought haunts me, yet I do not waver. I meet her chilling gaze with a strong one, full of as much courage as I can muster. Powerless against her, I fall heavily to my knees, yet my spirit remains undiminished. I will not bow to her. I'll die fighting.
My spirit will not be diminished.
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Trust
(Runner Drabble - 100 words)
The dart flew low over him. John watched it pass, wondering if he'd ever see Ford again.
…He trusted you with his life. You tell me, Colonel - was that trust misplaced?
John watched the dart speed off into the dark night sky, the whine of it's engine fading. He'd plead with the young lieutenant, urged him to listen, tried to bring him home. But, the trust wasn't there. "Ford," John whispered as he watched the dart fade from sight.
Was that trust misplaced?
Stuck in his mind, those words repeated over and over…and still, John could not answer them.
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Challenged: "I want to know what you think is going on inside Ronan's head after his first confrontation with Michael in the episode of the same name. "
He's a Wraith.
I don't care what Sheppard says, I can see it...feel it…taste it. Bury the hatchet, Sheppard said. I don't know what a hatchet is, but I want to bury it Michael's…no, in that Wraith's chest. The fire in me wants to see his pain, feel his blood on my hands…watch him die. Just like his kind slaughtered mine. Sheppard's people may make him look human, treat him like a human…want him to be human… but he's not.
He's a Wraith. He was born one, and if I have my way, I'll make sure he dies as one.
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Challenged: last scene in The Long Goodbye...1 drabble each on what Caldwell, Sheppard and Weir are all thinking
Weir:
Vague memories come to me. The screams, the insults…the defiance. I can still feel her, controlling…conquering. She took me, and I was powerless to stop her. Helpless as she hunted John, preyed on my team…nearly killed them all. She knew she was dead. She had nothing to loose. She took no pains to hide that much from me. All that mattered to her was retribution; fulfilling her vengeful quest at the cost of anything and everything else.
My gaze settles on Caldwell…and finds a perceptive look on his face. He sees it in my eyes…
I know how he feels.
Sheppard:
"I can safely say, I know how you feel."
His words strike me like a blast of cold water. Guilt forces my gaze away from him.
I never trusted him. From the moment that snake showed itself, I didn't…I couldn't trust him. They told me he was himself again, but yet, something kept me from believing.
He knew it. I could tell by looking at him…and when he looked at me. He never said anything, but he knew.
I look back at him. In his expression I see understanding. He knows what I've been through.
I know how he feels.
Caldwell:
The change is drastic, especially in Sheppard. Where I'd grown used to seeing distrust and suspicion, I now saw understanding and even guilt.
I've accepted what happened to me…at least as much as I ever can, but I've had longer. I know what they're feeling…and they'll take it in stride, in time.
A sense of relief flows through me. They finally know. I'd tried to convince them I could be trusted. They'd placated me with words, but their expressions always showed their true suspicions.
Weir hid it better than Sheppard, but I still saw it…felt the tension when I entered the room, bore the awkwardness of every conversation.
Now I see understanding. They truly know what I went through, what I was forced to do… how I had no control over anything. I smile, easing the tension between us. At last we have common ground.
They know how I feel.
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Prominte
Challenged: What does Radek do and think to get ready to go after Rodney in Grace Under Pressure?
Laptop…check.
Datapad…check.
I reach for my jacket, my hand passing over the bright Atlantis badge adorning its shoulder. The expedition…the team; we all rely on each other for our survival. He's my friend and I have to help him. Half the time I'm near him, I just want to kill him…but still he's my friend…and he's in trouble.
I supervised the repairs. I told Rodney the Jumper was ready to fly, I…
It was supposed to be me…but I…I can't even swim, and I hate to fly. The thought scares me and now…
Promiňte, Rodney. I will help you.
Note:
Promiňte: "I'm sorry." Czech
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Leaders
(Critical Mass)
Elizabeth's hand absently passed over the statuette on the corner of her desk. What have I done? Have I gone too far? Crossed that line? "Where are my values now?"
Her muttered words were meant only for her ears, but they found someone else's.
"With your people, as they have always been."
Elizabeth looked up, meeting Teyla's shrewd gaze.
"A leader often sacrifices much for the sake of her people," Teyla continued, "it is the burden we shoulder."
Kinship…strength. In Teyla Elizabeth found then both. Her own worst critic, Elizabeth embraced the understanding support. "For our people," she smiled slightly.
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Remembrance
A USA Memorial Day Holiday double drabble...
John stepped back from the railing, watching the setting sun flirt with the distant horizon. A warm, spring breeze blew the collar of his jacket against his neck. His thoughts wandered. This day held meaning for him. He'd lost friends, companions, and teammates before. He tried not to dwell on it, but this day, he always allowed himself a moment to remember. Mitch… Dex. Those two names always sprung to mind, but this year, as last year, more names were added to that list. Sumner, Markham, Smith, Walker, Stevens… The full list played through his mind, each name holding meaning… each name representing an ultimate sacrifice.
Never one for poetry, John had once read a poem that stuck with him. Written by a World War I KIA, it's meaning was something his MENSA caliber mind never let it go.
The thundering line of battle stands,
And in the air death moans and sings;
But Day shall clasp him with strong hands,
And Night shall fold him in soft wings.
John straightened. Slowly… deliberately he snapped off a salute as the sun finally sank from sight. A tribute. Not only for those he knew, but also for all his fallen kin.
Poem by Julian Grenfell; KIA 1915. Also found in my story "Tribute"
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Return
(Pre-Season 3 drabble in response to promo shots of Sheppard in that leather jacket! Guh!)
It felt good to be back on Atlantis. Her gaze found Sheppard. Unnoticed, she was still mesmerized.
Sheppard's gate was relaxed as he walked down the hallway. Gone was the standard lightweight jacket he'd always sported, replaced by a smooth, black leather jacket that accentuated his rugged good looks to the point of distraction. An Atlantis badge adorning the shoulder marked it as standard gear, but she'd never seen a soldier look like that!
Unnoticing, he passed her, a light whiff of leather following him. She watched him go; and loved doing it.
Yes, it was good to be back.
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Sacrifice
(A drabble for Childhood's End)
It is our way. For generations we have lived and died by this commitment and the Wraith have left us alone: a human herd too young for culling.
I do this for my people... for my soul. To ensure the herd is always too young to be culled... to have eternal rest.
But he's different. Much older than twenty-four, with a love of life in every compelling word he says. I feel his experience... his wisdom. I wonder if my people could achieve such things, if we lived long enough.
I must sacrifice...
Yet his words force me to listen.
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Warmth
(Double drabble for Shep's new leather coat!)
A warm weight settled on her shoulders, accompanied by a reassuring grip on her arms and the feel of strong hands warming her chilled skin.
"Cold?"
The voice from behind her was comforting, but tinged with concern.
Elizabeth inhaled deeply, the smell of the leather jacket mixing with the strong musk of the man who had worn it. She pulled the jacket tighter around her chilled body, trying to ward off the damp air that surrounded them. "A little."
Strong, bare arms wrapped around her. Her eyes widened. "John, you only have a t-shirt on." She instantly felt guilty for taking his coat, when she already had her light windbreaker on. "Take it back." She tried to push it off her shoulders, only to be stopped by his close body.
"I'll be fine, keep it."
His voice was confident. Elizabeth pushed one hand out from under its leather protection and gently grabbed his arm. Warm, firm skin greeted her cold touch.
"Told you so. Now stop arguing."
Elizabeth pulled her hand back under cover and leaned into his warm body, reassured as John's embrace tightened.
"They'll find us, you know."
She nodded, taking comfort in his convinced voice. "I know."
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Warrior's Flame
(The response to a challenge to write a Sheyla drabble...never one to turn down a challenge! )
John saw it the first time he met her. The depth of her soul, the strength of her spirit. She was a woman of substance; nothing about her was superficial. She'd looked him straight in the eye, every bit his equal.
Gentle in the quiet times, a fighting soul burned strongly within her, tempered by wisdom beyond her years. A deep passion for life lay just under the surface, fortifying her every action. He felt it: warrior to warrior… irresistible. Her lips quenched a desire he'd had from the moment he'd first laid eyes on her. Instantly, he was complete.
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Cats and Scientists
"It's like herding cats!"
John ignored the twinge from his casted leg and settled further into his bed. He cocked an amused eyebrow.
"Oh just... stop! Don't give me that look!" Rodney glared. "When you busted your leg skateboarding and Elizabeth went back to Earth I gladly stepped up to run things! What was I thinking?"
John watched Rodney pace, his rant in full swing.
"They're like a big bunch of kids! Petty demands, whiny attitudes!" Panting, Rodney paused.
John swallowed a chuckle. "Leadership isn't all its cracked up to be, is it?"
Rodney's glare turned ice cold. "Very funny."
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ummm... silly mood?
Chocolate Surprise
John tried not to laugh; the only thing suppressing it was the thought of McKay's unerring capacity to turn his annoyance factor up tenfold. "A little sticky, Rodney?"
McKay's glare was as dignified as a person could look with chocolate sauce dripping from his face. "Why don't you step closer and I'll show you!"
"Oh God, Dr... McKay..." Dr. Novak hiccupped, her expression mortified. "I didn't...
"Shouldn't you be on the Daedalus?" Rodney snapped. He stalked from the mess muttering something about chocolate and clumsy doctors.
John kept smiling at Dr. Novak in spite of her hiccups. "Well done, Doctor."
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Follow up for Chocolate Surprise
A Case of Nerves
John rounded the corner, his reflexes the only thing saving him from an embarrassing accident. He reached out, steadying the scientist as she fell heavily against him and dropped her data pad. "Whoa! Easy!"
"I'm sorry!"
He held her arm a minute longer. "No problem, Doctor…" he snapped his fingers. "Novak." He smiled warmly.
"Colonel… Sheppard…."
John's smile faded slightly as her voice hitched. "You okay, Doctor?"
"Hiccups." Her voice hitched again. "Nervous…." Another hitch. "Damn!" Looking mortified she covered her mouth. "I'm sorry… sir."
John's smile turned amused. He picked up her data pad. "Buy you a glass of water?"
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New Coffee
John stared in amazement at Rodney, vaguely reminded of an auctioneer.
"So the power output of the ZedPM..."
"Rodney," Elizabeth gently but vainly interrupted.
"...is directly proportional..."
John scowled. "McKay!"
Rodney blinked twice, quickly. "What?" His fingers tapped on his thigh.
"We're three slides behind you," Elizabeth chastised quietly.
"Three?" Rodney's brows furrowed.
John's gaze narrowed. "Just how much coffee have you had?"
"No more than usual." Rodney fidgeted.
John glanced at Elizabeth.
"French Roast in the mess," she whispered.
John grabbed his leather jacket and headed for the door. "Let me know when McKay comes down a couple notches."
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Strength
(I keep getting sparky challenged! LOL)
The voices around her were disconnected… disjointed. The deep, persistent call of oblivion caught her.
"Elizabeth."
The voice was quiet… pleading, and she found strength in it.
"Elizabeth, listen to me. Stay awake."
She wanted to. His tone was soft… gently insisting. She'd never been able to resist it. Until now…
She faded.
"Elizabeth!"
The voice was harder, more insistent… begging. She'd never heard him beg before. The wrongness of his despair fueled her strength. Her eyes fluttered open and found his. "John."
"Stay with me," he insisted. "Atlantis needs you…"
His gentle hand stroked her head.
"I need you."
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The other half of Strength
Despair
She was so pale… so still, her hold on life slipping. He was damned if he was going to lose her now. His grip on her hand tightened. "Elizabeth." Heart pleading for her response, his other hand came up, joining the first. "Elizabeth, listen to me. Stay awake."
Her fluttering eyelids stilled. Panic strangled him. No! Fear and despair filled his voice. "Elizabeth!" Please
Her eyes opened. "John."
Soft strength from her whispered voice heartened him. "Stay with me. Atlantis needs you…"
He'd glimpsed life without her and startled, he realized she filled a void within him. "I need you."
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Partners
(Drabble for Misbegotten)
Elizabeth smiled as John quickly left her office. Why John Sheppard, are you defending my honor?
Though covered with an easy excuse, his moment of surprise wasn't lost on her. Her smile turned fond.
She knew John Sheppard didn't give his trust often or easily and his loyalty even less.
They'd been through more then she ever imagined and somehow, she'd grown to just know that loyalty was there, even if she'd never consciously recognized it. But now, seeing his reaction to Woolsey, the IOA... her, she knew. Hard earned, she'd won that loyalty and trust and she treasured it.
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Questions
(Irresistible)
John rested his hands on the Deck railing. "Lucius was… interesting."
"That's an understatement." Elizabeth looked away.
His grip tightened. "He made you all do a lot of things you wouldn't do…" he grimaced, his voice trailing off.
"Yes, he did." Blush touched her cheeks. Sighing, she dropped her head.
John faced her. "It's none of my business but did he… that is did you…"
Her gaze narrowed. "John?"
"Well, he did want you to be his seventh wife…" he swallowed, "or was Teyla number seven and you eight…"
Her expression turned amused. "You're right. It's none of your business."
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It is cannon that Rodney played piano as a kid. Can't see why he wouldn't still have the hobby. Double drabble...
Just Between Friends
John couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. It was the last thing he'd expected to hear in the pre-dawn quiet that blanketed Atlantis but, more than that, seated in front of the piano was the last person he ever expected to see.
Rodney's hands floated effortlessly over the keyboard, coaxing soothing melodies from the baby grand and sending them echoing off the high ceilings. Oblivious to anything but the piano, Rodney had his eyes closed as he gently rocked back and forth.
John smiled and quietly eased into a chair. Stripped of its usual arrogant mask, Rodney's face was serene, showing the real Rodney McKay who always lurked within.
The song finished, Rodney opened his eyes, his serenity lingering.
John held his smile as Rodney caught sight of him, Rodney's expression instantly hardened.
"It's late, what are you doing here?" he snapped.
"Actually, it’s just really early," John leaned back and crossed his arms. He nodded once at the piano. "Nice."
"Yes, well," Rodney fidgeted, "I didn't know anyone was listening."
John's expression turned understanding. "Your secret is safe with me." His tone meant much more than knowing Rodney played.
This time, it was Rodney's turn to smile. "Thanks."
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Follow up to "Just Between Friends." McKay and Mrs. Miller
Art
The notes faded and Rodney sat back from the piano.
"Mer," Jeanie whispered, "that was beautiful."
Rodney fidgeted. "Yes, uhh, thanks." He glanced at her fondly.
Jeanie smiled. "Mr. Thornton would be proud."
He looked away, remembering his piano instructor's words: A fine, clinical player…
"I hear music, Mer. Not just technical precision. You've been practicing."
Memories flooded him. Using lightning to power Atlantis' shield; that hair-brained scheme with the Orion's hyperdrive; entering a stasis pod to talk to ten thousand year old Ancients… Science is as much an art as anything…
"Mer?"
Rodney smiled. "I learned the art, Jeanie."
Notes:
SG1: 6x02
McKay:
" I always wanted to be a concert pianist."
"Music was my salvation. It had this… perfect order for me."
"When I was 12, my teacher told me to quit. A fine, clinical player, he said, but no sense of the art whatsoever."
"I turned to science because I thought it would be different than music, but It isn't. It's just the same, it's just as much of an art as anything else."
"You're an artist, Major.(Carter) Maybe the best I've ever seen. I'm just critical because I'm jealous."
SGAFan: Somewhere along the way, Rodney found the ability to think outside the box and come up with hair-brained but brilliant schemes to save the day.
He found his sense of art. Stands to reason this would permeate more of his life than just his work. :)
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I wrote this double drabble a few months back for two very good friends. Thought I'd share it...
Friends
"Something's bothering you." John stuffed his hands deep in his pockets and waited. He nodded slightly at the sound of Ronon's typical and non-committal grunt. "Don't want to talk about it, huh?"
Another grunt.
John's brows quirked. "So, something really is bothering you." A moment of humor passed through him as the grunt took on a note of annoyance. "You really should get it off your chest, you know."
The grunt turned to a growl.
John lifted a placating hand. "Okay, all right, I get it. You don't want to talk. I'm not going to force you…" his brows furrowed, "not that I think I could anyway…." He turned and started to walk away.
"Sheppard."
John smiled briefly before forcing a neutral look to his face and turning around. "What?" His brows arched in feigned innocence; a look he immediately knew Ronon didn't buy.
"Why are you doing this?" Ronon crossed his arms and stared back.
John cleared his throat quietly. "Because everyone needs to unload once in a while." He smiled slightly at Ronon's neutral grunt.
"Maybe you're right," Ronon answered quietly.
John sauntered back to the tall Satedan. "Wanna talk about it?"
Ronon looked at John and smiled.
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Follow up drabble to "Friends"
Haunted
Ronon's smile faded. "Not really."
"Okay," John's reply was non-committal. He silently stared out across the water.
"She would've been twenty-eight today," Ronon said quietly.
"Who?" John's gaze narrowed.
"Melena. My wife." Ronon's voice hitched slightly.
John couldn't keep the shock from his face. "Your wife?" His gaze fell to Ronon's white knuckled hands. "How..."
"When the Wraith destroyed Sateda."
John looked away, his mind reeling. "I don't know what to say," he admitted quietly.
"That's okay." Ronon's voice was equally quiet.
Arms folded over the railing, he stood next to Ronon and watched the sun slip beyond the horizon.
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Common Ground
Ending
It's gone.
I feel the last glimmers of life fading from my body; stolen by him. I can't move... can't save myself and coldly I realize I don't want to. There is nothing left to save. The remaining years of my life are gone. I know the hollow look that now must shadow my eyes. I've seen it before and at long last, I know the suffering that would drive a man to wish for his death.
I hear the Wraith approaching and with him agony... the same suffering I saved another from.
I wish someone was there for me.
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Double drabble. It just didn't work any shorter... I tried! Common Ground.
Inspired by the scene where Shep throws a knife to kill one of the Genii.
Skills
"Just how many do you carry, anyway?" John watched Ronon pull a knife from his belt sheath.
"Enough." Ronon casually flipped it in the air before holding firmly to the blade. "It's all in the wrist." He effortlessly threw the knife at the target, smiling slightly as it hit dead center with a resounding thud.
John stared dubiously at the knife in his hand. "The wrist... right." Trying to mimic Ronon's actions he threw, grimacing as it hit the target and clattered to the floor.
"Wrong." Ronon's reply was tinged with amusement. He narrowed his gaze at John. "They never taught you to throw?"
John walked to the target and with a couple strong pulls freed Ronon's knife. He bent and picked up his. "Nope, too much room for error if you throw it, then you're unarmed."
"Doesn't help when your enemy is twenty feet away pointing a gun at you," Ronon grumbled.
"True." John smiled and handed the blade to Ronon.
"Why'd you want to learn?" Ronon threw again with deadly accuracy.
"Thought it would be cool," John shrugged. "The wrist... He threw, his smile turning to a grin as the blade lodged itself firmly into the target.
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I stumbled onto a discussion on Gateworld about the commentaries from Rising. Apparently, JF mentioned that not many people know, but Shep kept Sumner's dog tags in his room to remind him of what he'd done. He thought it was very "Sheppard" to have them.
Now, how can I resist drabbling THAT?! ;)
Never Forget
The memory was seared in his mind. It haunted him. His tightening grip pressed the cool tags into his palm. He'd fired the shot; it'd been his decision. One he now lived with. The image of Sumner, his eyes glazed with inescapable death, haunted John, but he bore its weight.
Opening his hand he allowed the tags to dangle. He scanned the room. A rough corner of Ancient architecture caught his gaze. Carefully looping the chain over it, John stepped back. Prominent against the dark background, the silver tags reflected the dim light.
He'd never forget... he never wanted to.
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My friend, TS, poked me to explain WHY Sheppard would take Sumner's dog tags in Rising...
Vow
You don't leave people behind.
The belief ingrained within him echoed in his ears. He heard Ford, insisting that they escape, but yet he couldn't tear his eyes from Sumner's body.
He'd taken the ultimate action... ended the colonel's suffering. He couldn't just leave him behind.
John pulled Sumner's dog tags from his neck. If he somehow made it back and the colonel had family, they were owed closure. No body to bury, but John damn sure wasn't going to leave them empty handed.
He pocketed the tags, took the proffered side arm from Ford and ran from the room.
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A little dark and a little violent so minor warning here...
Caged
The knife felt cold... heavy in his hand. John's grip tightened. They wouldn't hurt her, he wouldn't let them.
His team was with him, covering his six, but he still felt alone. He carried the burden of death; of ending lives, squarely on his shoulders.
Caged deep inside, an ominous anger rattled against his self control, much as it always did; but this time, backed in a corner, he opened the cage and gladly surrendered to the dark beast within. Steel-hard anger consumed him, ripping away the witty, easy-going persona he often wore.
It burst from the trees, cold gaze focused on the prey. It’s free hand found the throat of a startled enemy. It slashed the knife across the Genii soldier's throat and It stared into the dying eyes of the hated as flecks of blood splattered It’s face...
It turned and gazed at her as the team disposed of the others.
"John?" Her uncertain voice held a note of fear as her dark eyes searched for him.
He looked away for a moment, forcing the beast back into its cage. His expression softened. He was John Sheppard again.
He saw her relax at the same realization. "Elizabeth."
Not sure how this came about, except that from the beginning (literally in Rising) I've noticed that while he fights a lot, sometimes John Sheppard is more ruthless a fighter than other times (as seen in The Storm/Eye, 3x2, 3x7...) there is a dark aspect to him that he's very good at keeping under wraps, unless he really needs it, then he's capable of a deatched and ruthless brand of fighting. And you can see, especially in Siege I and The Storm, its almost something he "turns on"; there are defining moments where this mask of dark anger falls over his face. Awesome acting by JF. ;)
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Prompted by a friend who wanted a drabble of Sheppard and Vala meeting either before or after the briefing room scene from SG1: Pegasus Project.
Meeting
He couldn't keep the smile from his face, nor would he want to. Tall... curved... dark hair... Forcing a neutral expression, John met her group at the top of the control room stairs.
A corner of his mouth turned up at the spark of mischief in her eyes.
"It IS a shallow gene pool," she purred.
Discomfort replaced his pleasure as she circled him. He arched a brow at her expression of frank approval.
"Good thing I like dark, rugged and sexy." A wide smile sprang to her face.
John fought a blush on his neck. Oh yeah, she's trouble...
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Phantoms
No Win
"Shep...?"
John tried to smile. "Stay with me. You owe me two rounds in Kandahar, remember?"
"And testimony at... your court martial..." Holland's eyes closed.
"Yeah," John muttered. The distant but growing thumping of a chopper blade... the squawking voice on his radio... neither of them mattered now. "Holland?" Panic flared within him. "Dammit, don't you do this!"
Medics arrived. Numbly, he watched them work, knowing they were too late. Halfway to Kandahar, the blanket pulled over Holland's head confirmed it.
All for nothing. Two MPs met him as he stepped from the chopper.
"Major Sheppard? Come with us, sir."
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Blame the Sparky attack for this one... LOL "Something fall-ish/winter-ish would be cool!"
Snow and balconies anyone?
Snow
"You like it?" John couldn't quite keep the surprise from his voice.
Elizabeth blinked away snowflakes. "I was raised in upstate New York." She tipped her head back. "I love it. You?"
He smiled. "Not all of Nevada is hot. I spent a lot of time skiing Diamond Peak."
"By yourself?" Her eyes took on a mischievous look.
Light snow dusted his hair, but he ignored it. "That's no fun in a warm, cozy ski lodge." He wrapped his coat around her thinly clad shoulders. "Still haven't found the right peak for skiing here."
She grinned. "Or a ski lodge?"
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Written in response to my cable going out and general computer problems... this was the inspiration for my story "The John Sheppard Book on Computer Repair"
Solutions
"Just... Stop! You're not helping!"
John paused, poised, his hand in the air, ready to again smack the computer tower. "Yeah, I am," his voice was slightly indignant. He cocked a brow as Rodney's expression soured.
"Everything's a military solution in John Sheppard's world," he replied sarcastically. "Physical violence and computers go together like Kavanaugh and Weir!"
"Works for me," John muttered.
"And you back this theory with... what?"
John smiled mischievously. "John Sheppard Book of Computer Repair, page two: When in doubt, hit it."
Rodney's shoulders sagged and he looked away. "I'm SO not dignifying that with an answer."
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TS challenged me for a follow up to A Case of Nerves: "Think he can frighten the hiccups away by giving her a shock?"(Sheppard meets Dr. Novak)
There's only one shock I can think of that could possibly frighten away her hiccups as unrealistic as it may or may not be ;)
Surprise
"Hiccups better, Doctor?" John stopped outside the lab.
"No... Colonel," she managed.
"John." He smiled. "Thought the water would help." He faced her. "Why are you nervous?" John arched his brows as a flush touched her cheeks.
"Lindsey. They... just... stick with... me." Her hiccups intensified.
John's smile turned mischievous. "They say a good surprise can scare them away." He gently cupped her chin and kissed her tenderly. His lips lingered on her willing ones for a moment before he pulled back and watched her normal, if fast, breathing and how the flush had deepened. "Gone?"
She smiled shyly. "Gone."
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Team
(Sateda)
First it was Ford. Young and enthusiastic. A better soldier never watched my six. He was a member of my team, charged to my care, yet I failed to protect him.
Then it was Ronon. Hardened and dangerous. With him on my six I knew I was covered. He never said much, but to me his loyalty was unquestioned. He proved that, but never more than today.
The rough hands of the villagers pull me unwillingly away. First Ford, now Ronon.
You don't leave people behind…
I've lost one already. I'll be damned if I'm going to lose the other.
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Challenged by the Sheyla brigade. (hey, I have friends on both sides of the fence. LOL) Echoes.
Understanding
He smiled and watched her lace her boots before standing. "Carson let you go?"
Teyla nodded, her expression warm. "Yes. I am fine."
"I'm glad." John looked away. "Teyla, I..."
"John?"
He found comfort in her voice and her gaze that found his. "I wanted to be here, but..." his voice trailed off as she raised her hand slightly.
"You are a leader of this city, John. You did what was necessary... for everyone."
He stroked her cheek tenderly, his touch lingering as her hand found his. Words passed through his mind, but instead he was satisfied with silent understanding.
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Drabble inspired by the last infirmary scene in 3x15: Tao of Rodney, where Teyla is standing next to Rodney's bed with her hands folded in front of her almost in some sort of pose. I thought it was a curious pose for her...
Worth
Teyla stared into Rodney's glazed eyes. Death stalked him. She did not need Beckett's machines to know.
To be courted by a peaceful death was rare. For the fortunate it was a sacred moment, shared with family. Silently, Teyla embraced the tradition of her people.
Spirits of the Ancestors, take this man into your fold, for his heart is good and his spirit pure. Welcome him. He is worthy.
The knowledge of the Ancestors that surrounded her, dispelled much of their mythical qualities, yet her upbringing rang true. She stared at Rodney as his eyes slid shut.
He is worthy.
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Drabble for Sateda
Teyla's thoughts on John's moment of sincerity...
Scars
He'd been hesitant; not willing to open up... to let anyone close to him. Carefully hidden behind a casual front, his scars were intimate and ran deep. Still, she'd always known they were there.
Teyla looked at her hand, the warmth of his grip still lingering in her fingers. His strength was forged by independence, and her admiration for it ran deep. But one was stronger when supported by friends and family. With quiet joy, she'd watched him find that support from his team, from Atlantis.
She smiled. The words he'd said paled in comparison to the ones he'd kept inside.
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Drabble for Phantoms
Loyalty
"Sir?"
John stared hard at the young sergeant. "I'm taking this bird on orders of Colonel Hilliard. You have a problem with that, Sergeant?"
"No, Sir!"
The sergeant snapped a salute, as John trotted to the waiting chopper. He jammed the helmet on his head and fired up the engines. Won't take them long to figure out what's going on…He pulled back on the yoke as a commanding voice came over the radio.
"Major Sheppard, stand down! That's a direct order!"
John winced at the tone of command in Colonel Hilliard's voice… then switched off the radio.
Coming buddy!
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Drabble for Phantoms
Persistence
Damn RPG!
He'd planned this so perfectly. Fly in, find Holland, fly out. Simple. "Lucky shot," he muttered. John's grip on his P-90 tightened as he scrabbled up a sand dune.
What the hell was he doing here, against orders, anyway?
Holland.
With stark clarity he knew exactly why. They'd flown too many ops together… downed too many drinks at the O-Club afterwards for John to leave him to die in the desert while a bunch of bureaucrats discussed political impact.
"Damn it, Holland," John looked around before starting down the lee side of the dune. "You better be alive."
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Drabble for Phantoms:
Duty
The woods felt oddly quiet.
John's pace slowed, as the camouflaged shelter came into view. He could still see the desperation in Leonard's face; feel the force of the grenade against his back. John slowly turned away from the shelter and swallowed against the sight that greeted him. He moved towards the remains of Leonard's body, blunt determination driving him.
There wasn't much left; the grenade had seen to that, but Leonard's family was owed something and as his CO, John would make sure they had it. He knelt, slipped his knife under the dog tag's chain and pulled gently.
Note: An instant before he hallucinated hearing desert vehicles and an moment after Leonard committed suicide, Sheppard says "I gotta get his tags..." Presumably umm... there wasn't much left besides the tags to take back...
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New Year
The cheers were lost behind him as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back tightly against his chest. "Happy New Year," John muttered into her hair as the flashes of Atlantis' fireworks reflected off the surface of the ocean.
His hands migrated to her shoulders and he turned her to face him. He tilted his head and brushed his lips over hers. One hand slid to the small of her back as he pulled her tightly to him and deepened the kiss.
The spectacle over Atlantis was lost to the fireworks of passion that burst inside him.
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Drabble for Sateda. I always found Caldwell's reaction to Weir's statement about leaving people behind to be very interesting. He's always so collected, even when arguing, that the pure anger that showed in him for one moment, when he told her not to preach to him about leaving people behind, really struck a note with me. It feels like there was something in his past that sensitized him to the it...
Harshness of Reality
Vietnam: February 1969
"We can't just leave them!"
"Captain!"
Standing toe to toe with his CO, Captain Steven Caldwell fell silent, but the burning anger... the frustration that coursed through him filled his gaze.
"They're most likely dead." Colonel Merritt's voice held a note of understanding. "An Loc is swarming with Cong." He turned away. "We need every pilot and aircraft we have to repel the offensive. I can't risk you or your crew."
"Colonel..." Steven pushed down desperation. They were his friends. They'd all flown ops together and canvassed more establishments in Saigon than he'd care to admit.
Merritt spun to face him. "Request denied, Captain! Dismissed!"
Anger surged through him, but Steven bit back his retort. He snapped a salute to his CO and stormed from his office.
You don't leave people behind. He grabbed a chair in the hallway and flung it against the wall.
Never again.
Notes:
1. An Loc is/was a town, just north of Saigon near the Cambodian border.
2. From PBS online:
Februrary 22, 1969: In a major offensive, assault teams and artillery attack American bases all over South Vietnam, killing 1,140 Americans. At the same time, South Vietnamese towns and cities are also hit. The heaviest fighting is around Saigon, but fights rage all over South Vietnam. Eventually, American artillery and airpower overwhelm the Vietcong offensive.
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Break (drabble for The Eye. inspired by Rodney's cut arm in The Eye and his admission that he told Kolya the plan even when he didn't want to...)
Sheppard wouldn't say anything…
Rodney swore anyone within ten feet could hear his heart pounding as Kolya moved closer.
"I'll ask you one more time, Dr. McKay. What are you doing here?"
Rodney's gaze fixed on the gleaming edge of the knife in Kolya's hand. "I… I told you. We're just wrapping things up." Sheppard wouldn't break… no matter what…
Kolya moved so fast Rodney never realized what happened… until he heard himself cry out as pain tore through his arm.
"You're lying."
The words… the plan tumbled from his mouth and deep inside guilt swarmed over him.
I'm sorry!
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Drabble for Vegas.
I was struck by McKay speaking of how one event can alter the course of a man's life... that got me thinking... always dangerous.
Timelines in alternate realties don't always have to synch, so many infinite decisions that can alter when events occur or even if they do, altering the course of a person's life....
A pair of related drabbles... (along with a verse from my VERY FAVORITE poem of all time....)
I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and ages hence: Two roads diverged in a wood, and I- I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference.
~The Road Not Taken - Robert Frost
Branches
He didn’t even get to see her off; travel with her back home… attend her funeral. She’d been whisked away, the details of her death buried in ‘national security’… right along with the story of her failed rescue.
He hadn’t meant to hurt anyone… except maybe the damned Taliban who had her. He knew what the Taliban did to women, how they treated them, tortured them and killed them. He had to try…
… and yet she’d still died and with her too many others.
The Brigadier reads his sentence, but only a few words sink in. Dishonorable Discharge…
*****************
John wasn’t fooled for a second. In spite of the low chuckles of passing coalition soldiers, the mood on base was tense. He glanced at his newly assigned co-pilot, Captain Holland. “Is it always like this here?”
“Lots of tough missions lately.” Holland pointed towards Kandahar’s airfield.
John watched as a shiny black coffin draped with an American flag was carefully loaded onboard a transport.
“She was a damned good medic,” Holland offered. "Shot down behind enemy lines. Only one on her team to die.”
John shook his head slightly. “Damn shame,” he muttered. Without another word, he walked away.
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I had a friend early on in the SGA fandom who was truly gifted at graphic art. She designed the zine cover for my zine novel Shades of Gray as well.
She was a Sparky too. Loved Weir and Sheppard together. She made this absolutely lovely piece and asked me to write a drabble for it. While I normally don’t ship, I couldn’t resist it. It was just gorgeous and I was flattered to be asked. This is the drabble for it.
But if you want to see the entire project together, it is here: http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v222/SGAFan/misc%20stuff/seamless.jpg~original
Seamless
He is her strength. He nourishes her spirit. She wonders if he realizes how much.
She is his fulfillment. She completes a part of him he never knew was lacking. With her, he realizes how empty life was before.
He is her comfort. His easygoing spirit soothes hers. She keenly feels it in their moments of tranquil contentment.
She is his partner. He was used to being on his own, but she challenged his lonely path. Her quiet strength is indomitable. It fuels him.
Together, the seamless merge of their two spirits is greater than the sum of each apart.
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Tag for the end of The Return II
Discipline -
“Of all the lame assed, bone headed crap to pull, Sheppard…”
“Sir,” John started.
“Shut up! I’m not done yet!” O’Neill stopped toe to toe with him.
John looked away. Antarctica was starting looking good… if he was lucky.
“You ever… EVER do something like this again, I’ll lead the cheer squad at your court martial and personally drop kick your insubordinate ass out of the Air Force!” O’Neill pointed emphatically at him. “Have I made myself clear, Colonel?”
“Crystal, sir.” John’s gaze narrowed as O’Neill’s expression abruptly turned wry. He’d read enough SGC mission reports to know a little about O’Neill. One side of John’s mouth twitched and he took a chance. “Nice speech, sir.”
O’Neill grinned smugly. “Thank you, Colonel. I’ve been practicing it all morning.” He took a step closer to John, his face sobering. “Don’t think I wouldn’t do it though.”
John dropped his head. “Yes, sir.”
O’Neill stepped back. “Atlantis’ command is yours.” He walked a few steps away only to stop, turn and give a deadpan look to John. “Try not to screw it up. I don’t want to have to come back here and fire you.”
John smiled and nodded once. “Yes, sir.”
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Yes. I was challenged to write a Sparky drabble. LOL
Fashion
His feather light touch tracing up her arm sent tingles all the way to her toes. Elizabeth drew in a cleansing breath, her forehead gently coming to rest against his. He gently played with the odd shaped neck of her top.
“I never liked this shirt,” he groused quietly. Hazel eyes met her green ones. “Does nothing to show how beautiful you are.”
She smiled. “I can hardly walk around topless.”
“I wouldn’t mind,” he teased against her lips.
Lost in his kiss she barely felt him relieve her of the shirt before he enveloped her in his strong embrace.
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Drabble for Tao of Rodney after Rodney heals Ronon’s scars.
Honor Among Friends
The mirror wasn’t very helpful, but Ronon knew what he was looking for and could see enough to know it wasn’t there.
His fingers brushed the smooth skin on his back and found no roughness… no reminder.
His hand lingered and his thoughts turned to McKay.
Are those a badge of honor for you?
He had never considered it, but he and McKay never thought the same on almost everything. His eyes crinkled slightly. It no longer mattered. Ronon had few friends and, while unexpected, he now counted Rodney as one of them.
He smiled and slowly lowered his hand.
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Last Request
“Shep…” Holland’s voice held a note of acceptance.
John staunchly looked away, denying the inevitable. His brows knitted in frustrated pain. “What?” He forced a light tone.
“Leanne… you tell her…”
John swallowed hard. “Mark…”
“John!” Holland’s rasped, “please.”
He stared at Holland. He knew the plea was a dying one, even if he refused to accept that, but the odds of him fulfilling the request…
He inhaled deeply. “I promise.” His whispered words fell on deaf ears.
One hand closed lifeless eyes, while the other grabbed bloodstained dog tags; the one thing he could give the fallen man’s wife.
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Drabble tag for Common Ground
Reunion
Her data pad stylus slipped from her fingers as John approached her office. There was no trace of feeding, no sign of years lost. But his eyes... they held a hardness they hadn’t had before and she knew, inside, he carried scars.
Elizabeth shut out harsh memories, but the images of John’s body straining against the bonds as the Wraith fed, she couldn’t shake.
Her emotions surged as she walked to him. “John I...”
“You did the right thing.”
His confident voice bolstered her. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, and relished the feel of his warm embrace.
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Swift Vengeance
Being thrown backwards against a wall, John realized, hurt only slightly less than the gunshot that propelled him there in the first place.
“Sheppard!”
The crack in Rodney’s voice did nothing to boost John’s confidence as he slid to the floor. Damn Genii ambush... the thought raced across his mind. Darkness crept into his vision as unconsciousness made a bid for control. He blinked hard. In a disconnected way he heard Ronon’s blaster and Teyla’s P-90... but they were too late for him. Then a hand pressed into his side and tore a pain filled cry from him.
“Oh God, sorry! But, I can’t... I mean, I have to...”
Rodney was dangerously close to babbling and John found his voice. “S’okay...” he managed, slowly losing his fight for consciousness, “... have to...” His eyes slid shut.
“Sheppard! John!”
His last thought was Rodney had never used his first name before.
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