Routine Day by stella_pegasi
NAME: STELLA_PEGASI
SHOW/MOVIE: STARGATE ATLANTIS
STORY TITLE: ROUTINE DAY
CHARACTER/RELATIONSHIPS: RICHARD WOOLSEY, JOHN SHEPPARD
RATING: (PG, PG-13, R, NC-17) PG
Word Count: 990
WARNINGS: NONE
Written for Stargate_las, Round 1...still standing, so I suppose that is a good thing. Someone didn't like my characterzation of Woolsey; would love to know what others think. If you have a minute, let me know. FYI: The prompt for this round was 'routine', word count <1000.
By the way, I snuck in a tiny bit of Sheppard whump...just because...
ROUTINE DAY
by stella_pegasi
Richard Woolsey was a bureaucrat. Although he was secretly beginning to think of himself as a renegade, certainly as far as the IOA was concerned; still, he was a bureaucrat. Therefore, he cherished routine. He started the beginning of each new day on Atlantis with the hope that it would be a calm, ordinary day.
This day had started out as most on Atlantis do. Waking up at 0600 hours every morning, he attended to his morning rituals. Richard was quite fastidious in his habits. He completed his shower, toiletries, and was dressed by 0630 hrs. He allowed himself thirty minutes for breakfast, always a hard-boiled egg, grapefruit, and toast, or the reasonable substitution from the Pegasus galaxy. He had become quite fond of a similar fruit called ‘braca’ which had greenish-yellow pulp with the size and flavor of grapefruit.
Arriving in his office by 0700, he hoped that the first hour of his workday would be normal, at least for him. Once the senior staff meeting began at 0800, normal was rarely the operative word.
From his office, he watched as the leaders of the Atlantis expedition sauntered into the conference room, one by one, getting coffee and chit-chatting. He liked to enter last. Not as they might assume, as a controlling measure, but because he preferred they get their morning greetings out of the way. It always amazed him that although they usually had breakfast together, the group always had something additional to chat about in the morning briefings.
Woolsey entered the room as they were settling down. Sheppard was sitting on his right as he normally did; the rest never seemed to take the same seat. He liked order, and supposed that Sheppard’s military background made him feel comfortable with regiment as well. Woolsey began the meeting, and was pleased to find he was moving through his agenda without interruption. That was until he was presenting his third order of business and the gate engaged. Everyone in the room became alert, waiting for their COM’s to activate.
They didn’t wait long. SGA-9 was in trouble; Sheppard and Ronon were out the door before Woolsey could take a breath; the others following closely behind. Lorne met them outside the conference room. SGA-9 had gated to a planet where a civil war had just broken out; they were coming in hot.
Marines began streaming into the gate room, assuming defensive positions. A SGA-9 member, with a bloody shoulder wound, emerged from the event horizon. Three menacing rebels, brandishing knives, followed on his heels. Within seconds, the gate room was congested with more insurgents, the remaining, battered off-world team members, and an increasing number of Marines, who were pouring in from all doorways.
Woolsey and Teyla ran down the stairs while McKay got Keller to safety. Woolsey managed to side-step a couple of rebels. At one point, Sergeant Johnston shoved him out of harm’s way, taking a blow intended for him. He watched as a giant of a man, who stood at least a foot taller than Ronon, knocked Colonel Sheppard's P-14 from his grasp. As he dodged another incoming blow, he saw Sheppard take several strikes to the face and abdomen from the monster’s huge fists. Then the familiar sound of Ronon's blaster dropped the enormous man in his tracks.
As the Marines gained control of the situation, Richard ran to one of the SGA-9 members who had collapsed from a head wound. However, a rebel was quicker; reaching the Marine first, poised to plunge a blade into the unconscious soldier. Richard gripped the rebel's arm, spun him around, and walked into a left hook that sent him flying to the floor. Reacting out of anger, Richard jumped up. He grabbed the insurgent again, and laid him out with an upper cut to the chin. Richard wasn't certain who was the most surprised, the rebel he hit, himself, or the two Marines, who had rushed to his rescue.
He heard Lorne’s yell to stand down, and as he sank to the floor, he saw that the Marines had all of the rebels in custody. Richard Woolsey decided it was time to take a rest.
~~oooOOOooo~~
Colonel Sheppard found him on the tower balcony, several hours later. Richard was hypnotized by the resonance of the calm, crystal-glazed ocean as it lapped gently against the city’s foundation. The visible twin moons were chasing each other across the intense midnight blue sky, moonlight sparkling across the water. Sheppard’s deep voice shattered the silence, startling him.
“Never tire of this view.”
He turned toward the colonel. Sheppard had numerous bruises on his face and a swollen, cut lip. As he leaned on the balcony railing, Sheppard uttered a small groan.
“Should you be out of the infirmary, colonel?”
“Jennifer says my injuries are, luckily, superficial, painful, but superficial. She actually allowed me to leave after a few hours’ observation. I’m to rest in my quarters.”
“You aren’t there, John”
“Yeah, too restless to sleep, and besides, I wanted to check on the injured Marines, who are, thankfully, going to be fine. I also wanted to see if you were OK. You were quite impressive today.” Sheppard pointed to the dark, wide bruise spread across Woolsey jaw. “You took one for the team, Richard.”
Richard rubbed his jaw gingerly, smiling, “Not on my list of favorite moments.”
“No, they never are, but you did well today, Richard. Lorne says the Marines and airmen have been talking about that move you made all evening. I think they have a new hero.”
Woolsey chuckled, “Colonel; I believe your status is safe; I am no hero.”
Sheppard laughed, but said quietly, “Not my status either.” Richard knew better.
Neither man spoke for a moment, then Sheppard said, “You have to admit Richard, nothing is routine around here.”
Woolsey nodded his agreement, “That is very true, John.”
Silently, he added to his renegade self, “That’s a good thing.”
The end…
SHOW/MOVIE: STARGATE ATLANTIS
STORY TITLE: ROUTINE DAY
CHARACTER/RELATIONSHIPS: RICHARD WOOLSEY, JOHN SHEPPARD
RATING: (PG, PG-13, R, NC-17) PG
Word Count: 990
WARNINGS: NONE
Written for Stargate_las, Round 1...still standing, so I suppose that is a good thing. Someone didn't like my characterzation of Woolsey; would love to know what others think. If you have a minute, let me know. FYI: The prompt for this round was 'routine', word count <1000.
By the way, I snuck in a tiny bit of Sheppard whump...just because...
ROUTINE DAY
by stella_pegasi
Richard Woolsey was a bureaucrat. Although he was secretly beginning to think of himself as a renegade, certainly as far as the IOA was concerned; still, he was a bureaucrat. Therefore, he cherished routine. He started the beginning of each new day on Atlantis with the hope that it would be a calm, ordinary day.
This day had started out as most on Atlantis do. Waking up at 0600 hours every morning, he attended to his morning rituals. Richard was quite fastidious in his habits. He completed his shower, toiletries, and was dressed by 0630 hrs. He allowed himself thirty minutes for breakfast, always a hard-boiled egg, grapefruit, and toast, or the reasonable substitution from the Pegasus galaxy. He had become quite fond of a similar fruit called ‘braca’ which had greenish-yellow pulp with the size and flavor of grapefruit.
Arriving in his office by 0700, he hoped that the first hour of his workday would be normal, at least for him. Once the senior staff meeting began at 0800, normal was rarely the operative word.
From his office, he watched as the leaders of the Atlantis expedition sauntered into the conference room, one by one, getting coffee and chit-chatting. He liked to enter last. Not as they might assume, as a controlling measure, but because he preferred they get their morning greetings out of the way. It always amazed him that although they usually had breakfast together, the group always had something additional to chat about in the morning briefings.
Woolsey entered the room as they were settling down. Sheppard was sitting on his right as he normally did; the rest never seemed to take the same seat. He liked order, and supposed that Sheppard’s military background made him feel comfortable with regiment as well. Woolsey began the meeting, and was pleased to find he was moving through his agenda without interruption. That was until he was presenting his third order of business and the gate engaged. Everyone in the room became alert, waiting for their COM’s to activate.
They didn’t wait long. SGA-9 was in trouble; Sheppard and Ronon were out the door before Woolsey could take a breath; the others following closely behind. Lorne met them outside the conference room. SGA-9 had gated to a planet where a civil war had just broken out; they were coming in hot.
Marines began streaming into the gate room, assuming defensive positions. A SGA-9 member, with a bloody shoulder wound, emerged from the event horizon. Three menacing rebels, brandishing knives, followed on his heels. Within seconds, the gate room was congested with more insurgents, the remaining, battered off-world team members, and an increasing number of Marines, who were pouring in from all doorways.
Woolsey and Teyla ran down the stairs while McKay got Keller to safety. Woolsey managed to side-step a couple of rebels. At one point, Sergeant Johnston shoved him out of harm’s way, taking a blow intended for him. He watched as a giant of a man, who stood at least a foot taller than Ronon, knocked Colonel Sheppard's P-14 from his grasp. As he dodged another incoming blow, he saw Sheppard take several strikes to the face and abdomen from the monster’s huge fists. Then the familiar sound of Ronon's blaster dropped the enormous man in his tracks.
As the Marines gained control of the situation, Richard ran to one of the SGA-9 members who had collapsed from a head wound. However, a rebel was quicker; reaching the Marine first, poised to plunge a blade into the unconscious soldier. Richard gripped the rebel's arm, spun him around, and walked into a left hook that sent him flying to the floor. Reacting out of anger, Richard jumped up. He grabbed the insurgent again, and laid him out with an upper cut to the chin. Richard wasn't certain who was the most surprised, the rebel he hit, himself, or the two Marines, who had rushed to his rescue.
He heard Lorne’s yell to stand down, and as he sank to the floor, he saw that the Marines had all of the rebels in custody. Richard Woolsey decided it was time to take a rest.
~~oooOOOooo~~
Colonel Sheppard found him on the tower balcony, several hours later. Richard was hypnotized by the resonance of the calm, crystal-glazed ocean as it lapped gently against the city’s foundation. The visible twin moons were chasing each other across the intense midnight blue sky, moonlight sparkling across the water. Sheppard’s deep voice shattered the silence, startling him.
“Never tire of this view.”
He turned toward the colonel. Sheppard had numerous bruises on his face and a swollen, cut lip. As he leaned on the balcony railing, Sheppard uttered a small groan.
“Should you be out of the infirmary, colonel?”
“Jennifer says my injuries are, luckily, superficial, painful, but superficial. She actually allowed me to leave after a few hours’ observation. I’m to rest in my quarters.”
“You aren’t there, John”
“Yeah, too restless to sleep, and besides, I wanted to check on the injured Marines, who are, thankfully, going to be fine. I also wanted to see if you were OK. You were quite impressive today.” Sheppard pointed to the dark, wide bruise spread across Woolsey jaw. “You took one for the team, Richard.”
Richard rubbed his jaw gingerly, smiling, “Not on my list of favorite moments.”
“No, they never are, but you did well today, Richard. Lorne says the Marines and airmen have been talking about that move you made all evening. I think they have a new hero.”
Woolsey chuckled, “Colonel; I believe your status is safe; I am no hero.”
Sheppard laughed, but said quietly, “Not my status either.” Richard knew better.
Neither man spoke for a moment, then Sheppard said, “You have to admit Richard, nothing is routine around here.”
Woolsey nodded his agreement, “That is very true, John.”
Silently, he added to his renegade self, “That’s a good thing.”
The end…