LOST AND FOUND BY kristen999 [LFWS #1 ROUND 12]
Title: Lost and Found
Author: kristen999
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Stargate belongs to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc., no infringements of any rights is intended.
Spoilers: None
Prompt for the Round: Write a fic telling us some backstory for any member of the team. It must take place before season 1 of the show and can include any characters, canon or OCs.
LOST AND FOUND by kristen999
The surface to air missiles erupted from Serb territory. He evaded the first three; the fourth struck his tail. John battled the flight stick while instrument panels and alarms went crazy around him. At supersonic speeds, an F-16 was always on the verge of being out of control. This time, no amount of maneuvering would keep it from hitting the ground.
There were too many towns, too many innocent people in them, so he stuck with the bird, seeing if he could save her.
Ten thousand. Eight thousand. Five thousand feet.
John reached for the handle. Not yet. Acceleration was too fast, possible mortality rate too high.
There would be no piloting out of this. But it didn't keep him from trying.
One more second. Get the plane in position.
Now!
He pulled the handle. The canopy was jettisoned and explosive cartridges launched the ejection seat into the air, ripping away his connections to the cockpit.
John was yanked into the air, his harness and leg straps still securing him to his chair. No simulator could have prepared him for this. All his organs were ready to burst and his skull about to cave in.
Then his seat deployed a compact chute, slowing him down enough for the next small explosion that separated him from his equipment.
That left falling.
There were thankfully no power lines to dodge, but there’d be no avoiding the woods. He broke through the top of the forest, smacking against trunks and banging against branches. Sharp points gouged strips of flesh through his jumpsuit legs and sleeves. As the ground grew terrifyingly close, the chute finally snagged and halted his descent with a jerk, leaving John dangling like a crash test dummy.
And all he could think about was losing a multi-million dollar plane.
“You've squandered your life away. Do you really think you'll make a difference flying?” his father's voice echoed.
His SERE training kicked in regardless and John pulled out his knife and started to cut away the parachute cords. His rattled brain worked on instinct, only registering things after he’d dropped the last twenty meters down.
His left knee and ankle folded under him and he crumpled to the cold, hard ground. He let out a sob as the pain tore through his shell-shocked body and John looked up at the sky in a daze. Black smoke billowed far off in the distance, the remains of his aircraft a giant trail that could lead right back to him.
John pulled off his helmet and dragged himself over to a fallen branch that he could use as a crutch, pulled his compass from his survival kit and limped away.
“The military is about fighting. Why would you want to do that? You have a brain. Use it. The Air Force won't be able to,” Dave had lectured.
John burrowed in the near-by underbrush to try his emergency radio but got no response. He remained motionless when Serbian boots were inches from his body, held his breath when a soldier crushed a cigarette near his head. He curled his fingers around his Beretta, praying he wouldn’t have to use it.
The enemy thankfully didn't linger after finding his chute and took their search for him further away. Patrolling the U.N no-fly zone over Bosnia had been the peak of his career; if he lived, John wondered if they'd ever let him fly again.
Dusk turned to night and he used the cover to hobble in the direction the first patrol had taken. He used a leafy branch to cover his tracks, stumbling the last few hundred meters before dizziness overtook him and he collapsed.
Nightfall brought freezing temperatures. John burrowed deeper under leaves and grass, wrapping his arms around his trembling body.
And waited.
“When is Mom coming back, Dad?”
“She left, John. She didn't need us.”
The air filled with the sound of chopper blades and John awoke with a start.
“Coordinates say he's right here!”
He recognized American accents and crawled out of his hole. Search and rescue forces surrounded him and a medic threw a blanket around his shoulders, guiding him to a stretcher.
Hands and questions blurred in and out, but there was only one thing on his mind.
“You found me.”
John hadn't noticed a superior officer carrying one side of the stretcher. As he was loaded in the captain patted his knee. “We never stopped looking.”
“I lost my Falcon, sir.”
“Pilots over machines. Our people first, Lieutenant.”
“But I screwed up.”
“Really? You outmaneuvered three missiles before the fourth got ya. Limped your bird away from a populated area and evaded the enemy.” The captain leaned over. “You've always been a kick ass pilot, Sheppard. But we need more leaders. We need you.”
Don’t forget to leave ONLY FEEDBACK in the comments and NOT VOTES. All comments will be screened until the voting closes.
Author: kristen999
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Stargate belongs to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc., no infringements of any rights is intended.
Spoilers: None
Prompt for the Round: Write a fic telling us some backstory for any member of the team. It must take place before season 1 of the show and can include any characters, canon or OCs.
LOST AND FOUND by kristen999
The surface to air missiles erupted from Serb territory. He evaded the first three; the fourth struck his tail. John battled the flight stick while instrument panels and alarms went crazy around him. At supersonic speeds, an F-16 was always on the verge of being out of control. This time, no amount of maneuvering would keep it from hitting the ground.
There were too many towns, too many innocent people in them, so he stuck with the bird, seeing if he could save her.
Ten thousand. Eight thousand. Five thousand feet.
John reached for the handle. Not yet. Acceleration was too fast, possible mortality rate too high.
There would be no piloting out of this. But it didn't keep him from trying.
One more second. Get the plane in position.
Now!
He pulled the handle. The canopy was jettisoned and explosive cartridges launched the ejection seat into the air, ripping away his connections to the cockpit.
John was yanked into the air, his harness and leg straps still securing him to his chair. No simulator could have prepared him for this. All his organs were ready to burst and his skull about to cave in.
Then his seat deployed a compact chute, slowing him down enough for the next small explosion that separated him from his equipment.
That left falling.
There were thankfully no power lines to dodge, but there’d be no avoiding the woods. He broke through the top of the forest, smacking against trunks and banging against branches. Sharp points gouged strips of flesh through his jumpsuit legs and sleeves. As the ground grew terrifyingly close, the chute finally snagged and halted his descent with a jerk, leaving John dangling like a crash test dummy.
And all he could think about was losing a multi-million dollar plane.
“You've squandered your life away. Do you really think you'll make a difference flying?” his father's voice echoed.
His SERE training kicked in regardless and John pulled out his knife and started to cut away the parachute cords. His rattled brain worked on instinct, only registering things after he’d dropped the last twenty meters down.
His left knee and ankle folded under him and he crumpled to the cold, hard ground. He let out a sob as the pain tore through his shell-shocked body and John looked up at the sky in a daze. Black smoke billowed far off in the distance, the remains of his aircraft a giant trail that could lead right back to him.
John pulled off his helmet and dragged himself over to a fallen branch that he could use as a crutch, pulled his compass from his survival kit and limped away.
“The military is about fighting. Why would you want to do that? You have a brain. Use it. The Air Force won't be able to,” Dave had lectured.
John burrowed in the near-by underbrush to try his emergency radio but got no response. He remained motionless when Serbian boots were inches from his body, held his breath when a soldier crushed a cigarette near his head. He curled his fingers around his Beretta, praying he wouldn’t have to use it.
The enemy thankfully didn't linger after finding his chute and took their search for him further away. Patrolling the U.N no-fly zone over Bosnia had been the peak of his career; if he lived, John wondered if they'd ever let him fly again.
Dusk turned to night and he used the cover to hobble in the direction the first patrol had taken. He used a leafy branch to cover his tracks, stumbling the last few hundred meters before dizziness overtook him and he collapsed.
Nightfall brought freezing temperatures. John burrowed deeper under leaves and grass, wrapping his arms around his trembling body.
And waited.
“When is Mom coming back, Dad?”
“She left, John. She didn't need us.”
The air filled with the sound of chopper blades and John awoke with a start.
“Coordinates say he's right here!”
He recognized American accents and crawled out of his hole. Search and rescue forces surrounded him and a medic threw a blanket around his shoulders, guiding him to a stretcher.
Hands and questions blurred in and out, but there was only one thing on his mind.
“You found me.”
John hadn't noticed a superior officer carrying one side of the stretcher. As he was loaded in the captain patted his knee. “We never stopped looking.”
“I lost my Falcon, sir.”
“Pilots over machines. Our people first, Lieutenant.”
“But I screwed up.”
“Really? You outmaneuvered three missiles before the fourth got ya. Limped your bird away from a populated area and evaded the enemy.” The captain leaned over. “You've always been a kick ass pilot, Sheppard. But we need more leaders. We need you.”
Don’t forget to leave ONLY FEEDBACK in the comments and NOT VOTES. All comments will be screened until the voting closes.