When the Sky was Blue / SGA
Title: When the Sky was Blue
Rating: PG
Fandom: SGA
Prompt: I come from…
Summary: A WWII AU. (John/Radek friendship.)
When John’s bomber crashes in a field near Warsaw (or perhaps somewhere near there-how was he to know? The navigation instruments were ruined, and his sense of direction has never been accurate), he knows it’s over. Not that he doesn’t crawl out of the cockpit and make it halfway across the field before fire meets fuel tank, but after that, after the flames spread themselves out, the German soldiers will arrive. They’ll extinguish the blaze and then scour the surrounding forest.
The question is if he can make it far enough to lose their interest, of if they’ll find him holed up in a tree somewhere, hoping to camouflage himself in the branches.
Go, he tells himself. Go.
So he leaves the incinerated plane behind, taking what supplies he can manage, and begins into the forest, choosing his direction by intuition alone. (A bad idea, he’s sure.)
It’s a disheartening landscape as John hurries past: uneven earth (ruffled by war), empty clotheslines (or, worse, lines with clothes that have hung for months), houses with dark windows (shells without souls). There are ashes in the air and dirty patches of snow, but he avoids them to conceal his tracks. He must become a ghost.
But at some point, hours later, he sits down to rest against the trunk of a dead tree. He’s frozen half-solid, hungry and alone, wondering how long he’s been traveling and wishing this war would end. He doesn’t fall asleep, though it’s a close thing. It’s not the dull hunger pains that stop him, or the bitter wind, or the fact he hasn’t really slept in a year, but the gunshot sound of someone stepping on a large twig. John’s muscles freeze before he whips out his pistol.
From behind a tree, a man peers out.
John’s reflex is to shoot first and ask questions later, but this man isn’t a soldier: he’s wearing a long, thick, shabby coat, a black scarf, and boots that have seen the forest floor many times. In his hand is a basket filled with berries and mushrooms.
They stare at each other for a long moment. John’s aim doesn’t waver, but the trigger isn’t pulled.
The man has grey eyes magnified by glasses; they’re trained on the gun aimed at his chest. He slowly sets down the basket, raises both hands in surrender. For a second, only silence sounds. Even the birds have abandoned their song.
“American,” the stranger states, no question in his voice. “Part of troop?” Pause. “I saw plane crash miles from here. Yours, yes?”
The accent in his voice isn’t German, but something else, from some European country who, like all the others, are being culled into extinction.
John still doesn’t answer, but lowers the gun by the smallest increment. The man places his hand on his chest. “Safe,” he says, and it sounds like a promise, a solemn oath in a world where nothing can be believed.
--
They backtrack Radek’s (his name, which is technically two syllables, though John accidentally pronounces it in three) steps, but he seems immune to the emptiness around him, and what the disappearance of those people mean. They arrive at a rundown house with blackout paper pasted to the window. It’s falling down and breaking apart and barely worth living in, but it’s enough to survive the winter. There’s a small fire in the corner that John is immediately drawn to, but he resists the impulse to bury himself next to it. Radek looks at him.
“Cold?”
John nods. Radek pushes him (a funny thing to see, as he’s shorter and smaller than John) and insists he have some bread and weak tea. John accepts, because he’s frozen and exhausted and, despite his bravado, scared out of his mind. A dozen scenarios play out in his head, all of which involve Nazis, and he’s trying to plan the best escape route while simultaneously hoping to stay awake. The fire is lulling.
“Tomorrow we leave for Switzerland,” Radek announces, offering more bread. “Neutral territory. You will come?”
“I can’t leave,” John automatically answers. “There’s a war to fight.”
“And what do you think you will do, Major? Win it on your own?”
John doesn’t know how to answer that. Radek continues.
“I know a man. He will help us. He is active in the war effort. If you want to win against Germany, you will come with me,” and John wants to win, so he swallows his tea and nods.
FIN.
Rating: PG
Fandom: SGA
Prompt: I come from…
Summary: A WWII AU. (John/Radek friendship.)
When John’s bomber crashes in a field near Warsaw (or perhaps somewhere near there-how was he to know? The navigation instruments were ruined, and his sense of direction has never been accurate), he knows it’s over. Not that he doesn’t crawl out of the cockpit and make it halfway across the field before fire meets fuel tank, but after that, after the flames spread themselves out, the German soldiers will arrive. They’ll extinguish the blaze and then scour the surrounding forest.
The question is if he can make it far enough to lose their interest, of if they’ll find him holed up in a tree somewhere, hoping to camouflage himself in the branches.
Go, he tells himself. Go.
So he leaves the incinerated plane behind, taking what supplies he can manage, and begins into the forest, choosing his direction by intuition alone. (A bad idea, he’s sure.)
It’s a disheartening landscape as John hurries past: uneven earth (ruffled by war), empty clotheslines (or, worse, lines with clothes that have hung for months), houses with dark windows (shells without souls). There are ashes in the air and dirty patches of snow, but he avoids them to conceal his tracks. He must become a ghost.
But at some point, hours later, he sits down to rest against the trunk of a dead tree. He’s frozen half-solid, hungry and alone, wondering how long he’s been traveling and wishing this war would end. He doesn’t fall asleep, though it’s a close thing. It’s not the dull hunger pains that stop him, or the bitter wind, or the fact he hasn’t really slept in a year, but the gunshot sound of someone stepping on a large twig. John’s muscles freeze before he whips out his pistol.
From behind a tree, a man peers out.
John’s reflex is to shoot first and ask questions later, but this man isn’t a soldier: he’s wearing a long, thick, shabby coat, a black scarf, and boots that have seen the forest floor many times. In his hand is a basket filled with berries and mushrooms.
They stare at each other for a long moment. John’s aim doesn’t waver, but the trigger isn’t pulled.
The man has grey eyes magnified by glasses; they’re trained on the gun aimed at his chest. He slowly sets down the basket, raises both hands in surrender. For a second, only silence sounds. Even the birds have abandoned their song.
“American,” the stranger states, no question in his voice. “Part of troop?” Pause. “I saw plane crash miles from here. Yours, yes?”
The accent in his voice isn’t German, but something else, from some European country who, like all the others, are being culled into extinction.
John still doesn’t answer, but lowers the gun by the smallest increment. The man places his hand on his chest. “Safe,” he says, and it sounds like a promise, a solemn oath in a world where nothing can be believed.
--
They backtrack Radek’s (his name, which is technically two syllables, though John accidentally pronounces it in three) steps, but he seems immune to the emptiness around him, and what the disappearance of those people mean. They arrive at a rundown house with blackout paper pasted to the window. It’s falling down and breaking apart and barely worth living in, but it’s enough to survive the winter. There’s a small fire in the corner that John is immediately drawn to, but he resists the impulse to bury himself next to it. Radek looks at him.
“Cold?”
John nods. Radek pushes him (a funny thing to see, as he’s shorter and smaller than John) and insists he have some bread and weak tea. John accepts, because he’s frozen and exhausted and, despite his bravado, scared out of his mind. A dozen scenarios play out in his head, all of which involve Nazis, and he’s trying to plan the best escape route while simultaneously hoping to stay awake. The fire is lulling.
“Tomorrow we leave for Switzerland,” Radek announces, offering more bread. “Neutral territory. You will come?”
“I can’t leave,” John automatically answers. “There’s a war to fight.”
“And what do you think you will do, Major? Win it on your own?”
John doesn’t know how to answer that. Radek continues.
“I know a man. He will help us. He is active in the war effort. If you want to win against Germany, you will come with me,” and John wants to win, so he swallows his tea and nods.
FIN.