SGA Fic: Dark (John PG)
Title: Dark
Author: Squarked
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Character/Pairing: John Sheppard
Genre: Angst
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Rating: PG (if that)
Warnings: None.
Spoilers: Some vague ones for 38 Minutes.
Word Count: 1,420
Notes: This fic's an oldie. I wrote it way back when SGA was still in Season One for sga_flashfic's Abandonment Challenge.
John woke up and saw nothing but blue. The grass under him suggested that he was lying in a field somewhere, starring up at the sky.
That's odd John thought, I don't usually nap off-world.
John didn't know where he was, or how he got there, but he did know he wasn't safe at home in Atlantis- there wasn't any grass in Atlantis.
Not the mainland, either he reasoned. There weren't enough trees, and he couldn't hear the ocean. I'd have to be pretty far inland not to hear the ocean.
He strained to hear it anyways, telling himself not to panic.
Where am I?
The sound of waves still eluded him. The sound of people running towards him didn't.
John tried to get up and see who was coming. Instead he discovered that he couldn't move. His arms and legs were completely numb and unresponsive. John sincerely hoped that was his team he was hearing, because if they were hostiles, he'd be a dead man. Spread-eagle and immobile on his back, he couldn't be more vulnerable. John was pondering how far he could projectile spit, when he noticed the sharp, needle-like pain in the side of his neck...
Oh jesus, not again. Not again.
Rodney's worried face swung into view above him. John barely noticed how relieved he was to see him over the klaxons going off in his head. How long had he been unconscious if the thing attached to his neck had already sapped enough of his strength to leave him paralyzed?
Rodney's warm fingers felt around the flesh beneath his jaw line, searching for a pulse. "He's conscious, but I don't think he can move and his pulse is frighteningly fast," Rodney informed Teyla and Ford, who were standing anxiously nearby, "Help me get him back to the Jumper."
"Get, get it off," John managed to croak.
Rodney looked confused. "Get what off, major?" he asked, eyes traveling the length of John's body.
Get what off?! How could Rodney miss it? His fingers were mere inches from where it was latched onto his neck!
"Wraithbug," John wheezed, neck muscles straining as he struggled in vain to sit up.
Rodney placed a palm to John's chest, stopping his efforts. "John, there's no Wraithbug," Rodney said, soothingly.
"No Wraithbug?" John echoed, disbelieving.
"No Wraithbug." Rodney's other hand moved around to cradle the back of John's head. "It's a dart. The Wraith must have shot you with it during the ambush. Stay still, I'm going to pull it out."
"Ambush?"
* * *
"What I don't understand is why the Wraith would invent tranquillizers darts when they already have stun guns," Elizabeth wondered.
"Perhaps these weapons are lighter and easier to carry," speculated Teyla.
Rodney made a face and shook his head, clearly not convinced. "Maybe, but weapons technology tends to advance away from projectiles, not back to them. And the dart didn't paralyze Major Sheppard for much longer than a stunner would have. It just doesn't make any sense that the Wraith would opt for more primitive weapons than the ones they already have; especially if they get the exact same result."
"Actually, the dart took less time to wear off than the stunner did. I've had full feeling back in my extremities for a couple hours now," John corrected.
"And Dr. Beckett couldn't find anything wrong with you, other than the paralysis?" Elizabeth asked, "Rodney said you were pretty out of it for a while."
"Nope, Beckett says I'm in perfect health," John said, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
* * *
Less than a day later, John discovered that he hadn't escaped quite as unscathed as he'd thought.
Rodney's scientists had found yet another research lab in his absence. This alone was not that exciting- Atlantis was littered with Ancient labs. But this one boasted extensive archives that interfaced with a command chair to project holographic images overhead. Better still, there was every indication that this room had once been the Ancient's version of an observatory. The retractable roof had been a dead give away, but more surprising were the artistically rendered star charts that covered the floor. John had been all over the city, and yes, Ancient architecture was beautiful, but in a sterile and non-personal sort of way. The Ancients had obviously taken extra care to express their special love for this room.
John had tagged along to operate the chair. Of course, with Beckett's gene therapy, Rodney could have accessed the data banks himself, but the truth was (though John would never hear him admit it) John was far more at ease with Ancient technology than Rodney could ever hope to be. Elizabeth had recognized it right away; to John, using Ancient technology was as reflexive as breathing.
He was a natural.
Besides, Rodney needed to be at his laptop to monitor the diagnostics program.
"Whenever you're ready, major," said Rodney, gesturing for John to take a seat.
John was always ready. He sat down.
Nothing happened.
Rodney frowned. "The diagnostics show the chair's getting plenty of power- it should be working."
John willed the chair to respond, for the first time actually concentrating on bringing the circuits to life.
Still nothing happened.
"Here let me try," Rodney suggested.
Rodney sat in the chair which lit up immediately, albeit less brightly than when Sheppard usually sat in one. John's confusion was mirrored on Rodney's face. "Maybe we should get Beckett to run more tests."
* * *
John sat in the infirmary, waiting for Beckett to return with the results.
Rodney had made him touch several other Ancient devices, just to make sure that John's problems with the chair weren't a fluke. It wasn't- nothing Ancient would work for John, not even the life signs detector.
Carson walked back into the room. The expression on his face sent a shiver of dread down John's spine.
"So, what's wrong with me doc?" he asked, trying to sound cool and unconcerned. Failing.
"I think I've figured out what the Wraith dart was for," Carson replied quietly, laying out the results of John's work-up on the desk beside him.
* * *
John hadn't believed him at first. According to Carson, the purpose of the Wraith dart was to render the ATA gene inert in humans. When Carson had delivered the news, John had shook his head and told him to check the results again.
"I double checked the results twice before coming to you, major," had been Carson's response, "But there's a chance that the changes are temporary." Though Carson had looked like he doubted that last piece of information.
One week passed, then two more. Nothing changed, and John was forced to accept that Carson's results had been right after all.
After the fourth week, Elizabeth called him into her office. "I really am sorry, John," she said, "But we need you and your team back in the field."
John left without a word, and Elizabeth let him go.
The atmosphere in the Puddle Jumper that mission was tense. Rodney was flying while John sat, banished, to the seat beside him.
John could have done without the side-glances that Rodney kept giving him; equal parts guilt and pity, as though Rodney had robbed him of a cherished possession and was acutely aware that John couldn't bear its absence. John wished he would stop, for both their sakes. Rodney hadn't done this to him, the Wraith had- just another thing to hate those bastards for, and there was absolutely nothing anyone could do about it. Not that Carson hadn't tried. So far he'd been unsuccessful, and although he wouldn't say so, John suspected he'd made no progress at all towards finding an antidote.
The mission turned out to be uneventful, serving mainly to give Rodney practice with the Jumper.
I guess he'll need it John thought cynically.
When it was over (the debriefing was mercifully short), John fled to his quarters until he was sure that most of Atlantis had gone to bed. Then he snuck down to the Jumper bay and into his favourite Jumper.
John sat at the controls and silently begged for a response.
Come on, just once for old times sake.
The Jumper had always seemed to operate outside the laws of science anyways, knowing what John intended almost before John knew it himself. Why couldn't it work that way now? The ATA gene hadn't completely abandoned him. It was still there, John just couldn't get a handle on it, like shadows in his peripheral vision.
John sat in the pilot seat for five hours, but to no avail.
Everything stayed dark.
Author: Squarked
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Character/Pairing: John Sheppard
Genre: Angst
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Rating: PG (if that)
Warnings: None.
Spoilers: Some vague ones for 38 Minutes.
Word Count: 1,420
Notes: This fic's an oldie. I wrote it way back when SGA was still in Season One for sga_flashfic's Abandonment Challenge.
John woke up and saw nothing but blue. The grass under him suggested that he was lying in a field somewhere, starring up at the sky.
That's odd John thought, I don't usually nap off-world.
John didn't know where he was, or how he got there, but he did know he wasn't safe at home in Atlantis- there wasn't any grass in Atlantis.
Not the mainland, either he reasoned. There weren't enough trees, and he couldn't hear the ocean. I'd have to be pretty far inland not to hear the ocean.
He strained to hear it anyways, telling himself not to panic.
Where am I?
The sound of waves still eluded him. The sound of people running towards him didn't.
John tried to get up and see who was coming. Instead he discovered that he couldn't move. His arms and legs were completely numb and unresponsive. John sincerely hoped that was his team he was hearing, because if they were hostiles, he'd be a dead man. Spread-eagle and immobile on his back, he couldn't be more vulnerable. John was pondering how far he could projectile spit, when he noticed the sharp, needle-like pain in the side of his neck...
Oh jesus, not again. Not again.
Rodney's worried face swung into view above him. John barely noticed how relieved he was to see him over the klaxons going off in his head. How long had he been unconscious if the thing attached to his neck had already sapped enough of his strength to leave him paralyzed?
Rodney's warm fingers felt around the flesh beneath his jaw line, searching for a pulse. "He's conscious, but I don't think he can move and his pulse is frighteningly fast," Rodney informed Teyla and Ford, who were standing anxiously nearby, "Help me get him back to the Jumper."
"Get, get it off," John managed to croak.
Rodney looked confused. "Get what off, major?" he asked, eyes traveling the length of John's body.
Get what off?! How could Rodney miss it? His fingers were mere inches from where it was latched onto his neck!
"Wraithbug," John wheezed, neck muscles straining as he struggled in vain to sit up.
Rodney placed a palm to John's chest, stopping his efforts. "John, there's no Wraithbug," Rodney said, soothingly.
"No Wraithbug?" John echoed, disbelieving.
"No Wraithbug." Rodney's other hand moved around to cradle the back of John's head. "It's a dart. The Wraith must have shot you with it during the ambush. Stay still, I'm going to pull it out."
"Ambush?"
* * *
"What I don't understand is why the Wraith would invent tranquillizers darts when they already have stun guns," Elizabeth wondered.
"Perhaps these weapons are lighter and easier to carry," speculated Teyla.
Rodney made a face and shook his head, clearly not convinced. "Maybe, but weapons technology tends to advance away from projectiles, not back to them. And the dart didn't paralyze Major Sheppard for much longer than a stunner would have. It just doesn't make any sense that the Wraith would opt for more primitive weapons than the ones they already have; especially if they get the exact same result."
"Actually, the dart took less time to wear off than the stunner did. I've had full feeling back in my extremities for a couple hours now," John corrected.
"And Dr. Beckett couldn't find anything wrong with you, other than the paralysis?" Elizabeth asked, "Rodney said you were pretty out of it for a while."
"Nope, Beckett says I'm in perfect health," John said, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
* * *
Less than a day later, John discovered that he hadn't escaped quite as unscathed as he'd thought.
Rodney's scientists had found yet another research lab in his absence. This alone was not that exciting- Atlantis was littered with Ancient labs. But this one boasted extensive archives that interfaced with a command chair to project holographic images overhead. Better still, there was every indication that this room had once been the Ancient's version of an observatory. The retractable roof had been a dead give away, but more surprising were the artistically rendered star charts that covered the floor. John had been all over the city, and yes, Ancient architecture was beautiful, but in a sterile and non-personal sort of way. The Ancients had obviously taken extra care to express their special love for this room.
John had tagged along to operate the chair. Of course, with Beckett's gene therapy, Rodney could have accessed the data banks himself, but the truth was (though John would never hear him admit it) John was far more at ease with Ancient technology than Rodney could ever hope to be. Elizabeth had recognized it right away; to John, using Ancient technology was as reflexive as breathing.
He was a natural.
Besides, Rodney needed to be at his laptop to monitor the diagnostics program.
"Whenever you're ready, major," said Rodney, gesturing for John to take a seat.
John was always ready. He sat down.
Nothing happened.
Rodney frowned. "The diagnostics show the chair's getting plenty of power- it should be working."
John willed the chair to respond, for the first time actually concentrating on bringing the circuits to life.
Still nothing happened.
"Here let me try," Rodney suggested.
Rodney sat in the chair which lit up immediately, albeit less brightly than when Sheppard usually sat in one. John's confusion was mirrored on Rodney's face. "Maybe we should get Beckett to run more tests."
* * *
John sat in the infirmary, waiting for Beckett to return with the results.
Rodney had made him touch several other Ancient devices, just to make sure that John's problems with the chair weren't a fluke. It wasn't- nothing Ancient would work for John, not even the life signs detector.
Carson walked back into the room. The expression on his face sent a shiver of dread down John's spine.
"So, what's wrong with me doc?" he asked, trying to sound cool and unconcerned. Failing.
"I think I've figured out what the Wraith dart was for," Carson replied quietly, laying out the results of John's work-up on the desk beside him.
* * *
John hadn't believed him at first. According to Carson, the purpose of the Wraith dart was to render the ATA gene inert in humans. When Carson had delivered the news, John had shook his head and told him to check the results again.
"I double checked the results twice before coming to you, major," had been Carson's response, "But there's a chance that the changes are temporary." Though Carson had looked like he doubted that last piece of information.
One week passed, then two more. Nothing changed, and John was forced to accept that Carson's results had been right after all.
After the fourth week, Elizabeth called him into her office. "I really am sorry, John," she said, "But we need you and your team back in the field."
John left without a word, and Elizabeth let him go.
The atmosphere in the Puddle Jumper that mission was tense. Rodney was flying while John sat, banished, to the seat beside him.
John could have done without the side-glances that Rodney kept giving him; equal parts guilt and pity, as though Rodney had robbed him of a cherished possession and was acutely aware that John couldn't bear its absence. John wished he would stop, for both their sakes. Rodney hadn't done this to him, the Wraith had- just another thing to hate those bastards for, and there was absolutely nothing anyone could do about it. Not that Carson hadn't tried. So far he'd been unsuccessful, and although he wouldn't say so, John suspected he'd made no progress at all towards finding an antidote.
The mission turned out to be uneventful, serving mainly to give Rodney practice with the Jumper.
I guess he'll need it John thought cynically.
When it was over (the debriefing was mercifully short), John fled to his quarters until he was sure that most of Atlantis had gone to bed. Then he snuck down to the Jumper bay and into his favourite Jumper.
John sat at the controls and silently begged for a response.
Come on, just once for old times sake.
The Jumper had always seemed to operate outside the laws of science anyways, knowing what John intended almost before John knew it himself. Why couldn't it work that way now? The ATA gene hadn't completely abandoned him. It was still there, John just couldn't get a handle on it, like shadows in his peripheral vision.
John sat in the pilot seat for five hours, but to no avail.
Everything stayed dark.