seven fics: gen and het
Title: Comfortable And Casual
Request: nsi_meepers - Lorne, Elizabeth - office.
Rating: PG-13 (gen)
Notes: Slightly rough, I think. I didn't have time to polish the edges.
Comfortable And Casual
Within thirty seconds of Major Evan Lorne presenting himself to her in her office, Elizabeth knew she was looking at an essential personality as far divorced from John Sheppard's reckless drive as was possible for two men who shared a military background and, presumably, many of the same character traits essential to succeeding as a member of either Stargate Command or the Atlantis expedition.
If Major Sheppard was the reckless hero, flying in the face of adversity, Major Lorne would be the steady anchor, holding firm in the winds of change.
"I see you've been at the SGC for two years, Major."
"Yes, ma'am." The Major answered easily enough, his pose neither stiff nor slouched. Comfortable and casual - as Elizabeth suspected he would be in all situations. "Since early 2003. Ran a few missions through the Stargate - mostly S&R. When General O'Neill asked for volunteers for the Atlantis rescue expedition, I volunteered." His smile had a charming self-deprecation to it - a far cry from Rodney's immodesty. "I mean, it's Atlantis, ma'am."
Elizabeth smiled to herself and at him. "Yes, it is." She regarded him. "I believe Major Sheppard's already told you that you'll be commanding the Atlantis military forces in his absence?"
"He did, ma'am."
"Good. I've appointed Teyla Emmagen of Athos as temporary expedition leader in my absence." And if that decision was going to land the fat in the fryer in certain quarters, Elizabeth didn't care. "You'll be working with her in the day-to-day management of Atlantis, along with Dr. Radek Zelenka, who'll be heading up the scientific division in Dr. McKay's absence."
She paused, and let the silence ask the question that was at the heart of her concern over John's choice of replacement. Will that be a problem for you, Major?
"I've met Ms. Emmagen," the Major said without any sign of resentment or surprise. "She's quite unique."
A pronouncement which could go either way. In her head, Elizabeth grimaced and hoped that John's judgement would show up well in this. The last thing she wanted to return to was a power struggle between the newly-appointed military leader of Atlantis and Atlantis' best ally in the Pegasus galaxy.
"You understand that the structure of authority runs differently here to the SGC, then?"
Now his mouth twitched, as though a hint of humour was repressed. "So Sheppard has indicated, ma'am."
She took that as an encouraging sign. "I've called Teyla and Radek in here shortly for a handover, before Major Sheppard, Dr. McKay, and I have to go to Earth. Hopefully, during that meeting, you'll get a feel for how things work around here."
And maybe she'd have a few of her fears laid to rest. Atlantis was Elizabeth's baby, after all.
"I hope I will, ma'am." Again, the smile flashed out, boyish and easy. In it, Elizabeth suspected she saw a hint of his acknowledgement of the trust she was putting in him, leaving the care of the city in his hands, and it heartened her. "Thank you."
"Thank you for the rescue," she said, acknowledging his part among the volunteers that had come through to bolster them in the Wraith siege. And, because it seemed right to say, although he'd been here for several days already, she added, "And welcome to Atlantis, major."
- fin -
Title: Unregretted
Request: beaniesheppard - John, Ronon - gym
Rating: PG-13 (gen)
Notes: Teyla sneaked in. She does this sometimes. I couldn't quite just limit it to the two of them, they needed a catalyst, and Teyla was it.
Unregretted
It didn't initially bother John that Ronon Dex could be most often found in the gym, training against the marines, the officers, and the enlisted personnel. The man was "a lean, mean, Wraith-killing machine" - Rodney's quotation, not John's.
It irked a little after he encountered Teyla using their sparring time to test herself against Ronon. Just a little. Because the man was obviously good enough to give Teyla a challenge, and John...well...wasn't.
"You are not settled today," she said as she offered him a hand up for the third time.
John rolled a shoulder, feeling the shift of muscle across his back. "It's just...the thing with Rodney and Cadman," he said, deciding not to mention Ronon Dex at all.
"A difficult situation," Teyla said. "Perhaps we should run through the basics again?"
"I'm fine," John said, more emphatically than he'd intended.
Of course 'fine' entailed being laid out on the floor four more times before the end of their session.
The thing was, he didn't have the time to develop the kind of skills Ronon had as a fighter. Since the siege and the influx of military personnel into the city, John had been run off his feet with the admin work of commanding - stuff he'd never had to do more than glance at in the months since the expedition had begun.
And while Colonel Sheppard the military commander appreciated Ronon Dex's skills as a soldier, John Sheppard the man felt just a little intimidated by Ronon Dex.
He was picking up his towel from his latest sparring session with Teyla when the doors hissed open.
"Am I interrupting?"
"Not at all," Teyla said, her voice silk-smooth. John tensed, tossed his towel in his bag, and prepared to say that he was just leaving. "I was just about to leave."
A second later, her footsteps retreated down the corridor, leaving the two men alone.
John turned. "You wanted to see me?"
Ronon stalked around the room, but the guy didn't seem angry, just restless. "Yeah." He poked at the punching dummy, watching as the rubbery grey material swiftly filled in and sealed over again. "Your marines could do with more work in hand to hand." No introductions, skip the niceties, go for the throat. That seemed to be Ronon's all-around modus operandi.
"I heard a few of them are training with you."
"Yeah." Ronon glanced at him. "That okay?"
"It's a free world."
"You're the commander around here."
"So?"
Ronon shrugged, all bare arms and shoulders. "Teyla suggested I ask."
Thank you, Teyla. John looked at what was being offered and figured that all the military personnel could do with some lessons from Ronon Dex. "If you want to start up regular classes, you should probably talk to Sergeant Hutton. He'd be able to set up schedules for you that won't interfere with our missions." The guy had gotten this far - and Elizabeth was right, Ronon wasn't the chatty type - John figured he could make it easier on him.
The dark head looked up. "Hutton?"
"Yeah."
Ronon nodded. "Thanks."
"Hey, you save me the effort of whipping their butts into action. It's a fair deal."
White teeth flashed in a grin as Ronon turned to go. John scooped up his bag and followed. "You hungry?"
"Going for a run."
"Well, let me know next time, I'll come with." At Ronon's surprised look, John shrugged. "I could probably do with some whipping into shape."
"Thought Teyla did that."
"Okay," he said, "some more whipping into shape."
Ronon snorted, but he was still smiling. "Midafternoon tomorrow. 1500 hours. Starting here."
It was at that point that John had a feeling he was going to regret this all over - his body, his ego, the lot.
"Okay. 1500 hours here."
Ronon nodded, grinned, and ran off. The man was fast.
As it happened, John's body and ego might have regretted it, but the leader of AR-1 certainly didn't.
- fin -
Title: Fool's Ally
Request: writerrising - Radek, Teyla - mainland
Rating: PG-13 (gen/UST)
Notes: I'm afraid the tenses may be confused in this one. I started writing it in one direction and tense, then ran a flashback and then had to completely rearrange and edit the story to get it to work. Hopefully it's worked out okay!
Fool's Ally
Rodney believed Radek's computer lessons with Teyla were a waste of Radek's time. Radek did not agree then, and is glad of it now.
Teyla is their ally, and has been eagerly learning of Earth ways and customs. In Radek's mind, that interest requires a return interest, and if he does not admit that he is flattered by Teyla' s attention, then it is only a small part of what fascinates him about the Athosian woman.
And so, during one of her lessons in computer use, he asked if Teyla would mind if he accompanied her, Colonel Sheppard, Dr. Beckett, and Dr. Sadler to the mainland one day.
She looked up, surprised. "I... I do not think it will be of great interest to you," she admitted . "Dr. McKay does not think much of my people."
"Rodney does not think much of anyone," Radek remarked, Teyla's subdued tones inciting him to more sharpness than is perhaps warranted in his opinion of Rodney. "If you do not mind... I do not often go through the Stargate, but I would like to meet your people."
What he meant was that he would like to know more of a people who could produce such a woman as Teyla Emmagen, who had let neither Rodney's scorn, nor her own ignorance stand in her way.
And Radek would not be averse to knowing more of Teyla, too.
"Your company would be very welcome, Dr. Zelenka."
"Please," he said briskly, hoping that his flush of pleasure was not obvious, "It is Radek."
And so he sits in a 'jumper of supplies, with Carson Beckett in the seat behind Teyla, and Dr. Sadler's nose in a set of notes she's made from conversations with Teyla, and Major Sheppard flying them in with the kind of assured arrogance that is so common in the military of this expedition.
"We're nearly there!" Sheppard says as the land mass grows in their sights. "Ladies and gentlemen, please return all seats to the upright position, and store your tray tables away in the appropriate space. We're beginning our descent and should be safe in Los Casa d'Athos in twenty minutes."
As Radek settles himself back in his chair, he catches Teyla's glance back at him.
Her smile is slow to grow, yet brilliant, and Radek thinks Rodney is a fool.
- fin -
Titles: Blurring Lines
Request: triciabyrne - Evan Lorne/Kate Heightmeyer - couch
Rating: NC-17 (het)
Notes: Not a pairing I've ever been asked for before, and I'm not so sure I'm any good at writing Kate, but...here goes!
Blurring Lines
When a female psychiatrist takes male patients, there are almost inevitably jokes about lying on her couch.
Thankfully, in Atlantis, she has no 'couch', and the military discipline of most of her patients is a bulwark against the most tactless of quips. That doesn't stop the scientific contingent of the expedition, but Kate can manage them.
Professional distance is second nature, habitual. It carries easily into her personal interactions in the city, and although she talks, laughs, plays cards, and makes jokes, with others in the city, Kate is personal with no-one.
Still, there are times when Major Evan Lorne is sitting in his chair, easy and comfortable, with the slanting light through the windows tinting his hair with gold highlights in the oaken brown, Kate thinks that she would like a lounge in which to lay him.
She would undo his shirt, button by button, while he reflects on his father's distaste for his son's "arty ways", and how the military had been Evan's way of appeasing his father. Her fingers would skim his chest, lightly brushing through the hairs across his pecs, circling the dipped hollow of his nipples with her nails while his hips shifted at her caress.
Kate would ease open his fly and curl her fingers around him, watch him quiver and forget what he was going to say about how the military ended up suiting him better than he'd ever though. And she would slide her fingers the length of his cock, slide her tongue across the swollen tip while he reached for her body. He would take her body in his hands, skimming the curve of her breast, savouring each nipple with a gourmet's pleasure while his fingers dipped between her thighs. He would welcome her atop him, thrusting up as she thrust down, desire a humming tension in her belly as ecstacy drew closer...closer...
It takes Kate a moment to realise that the Major stopped talking and that she's staring into space.
A flush sweeps across her cheeks and she looks down at her half-written notes. "I'm sorry, Major. I..." She has no excuse for her distraction - nothing that she'd say to his face.
He grins easily. "It's okay, Doc." One hand rubs absently at the nape of his neck, a gesture of embarrassment, almost shyness. "Actually, I was thinking that...I wouldn't mind painting you like that. Thinking about whatever you're thinking about, I mean." He meets her eye. "If you're interested in being painted, and don't mind, of course."
Amidst the heat of embarrassment and pleasure, Kate wonders if there's a couch to be found anywhere in Atlantis.
- fin -
Title: First Cry, Last Light
Request: roguish_angel - Teyla, John - babies
Rating: PG-13 (gen with UST)
Notes: I dislike taking the obvious route with a prompt like this. Any babies involved are neither Teyla's nor John's.
Challenge: fanfic100 prompt #029 - birth.
First Cry, Last Light
Teyla caught his arm when he tried to follow Ronon and Rodney out of the tent. "Stay."
John knew he should have moved faster. With a glance at the screen behind which two adolescent girls bathed the forehead of another girl, while the father of her child murmured useless encouragements. "Teyla, I know nothing about childbirth."
"And I know little more," she said. "But it is more than these know."
The last cullings on this planet had taken most of their adult populace a year ago, and the four remaining adults had died of a winter fever. The oldest person in this community was an eighteen year-old boy who'd greeted Teyla's arrival on the planet with panicked relief.
"We could go back and get Carson..." John began.
"Will Rodney get the 'jumper repaired in time?"
Even Rodney could only produce so many miracles out of his ass in a given time.
"Ronon..."
"Will intimidate her. You will not." Neither of them spoke of Rodney.
"The blind leading the blind," he muttered. "You've seen births before?"
"I have attended them," Teyla said quietly. "I helped midwife Jinto into the world, as well as other children of my people. I have never done it alone and I do not wish to begin now."
John took a deep breath. His life in the Pegasus galaxy seemed to consist of being thrown in the deep end, with the universe waiting to see if he would sink or swim. "All right," he said, a little grumpily. "What do you need me to do?"
Boiling water and appropriating Ronon's largest and smallest knives were the easy parts. He co-opted Ronon to collect wood for the fire, marshal the children's camp into some semblance of order, and do some hunting, then radio'd Rodney, who complained about being stuck out in the 'jumper alone. John offered him a place in the birthing tent; Rodney shut up.
The labour was slow and bloody, and worse than war. John handed over hot cloths, administered painkillers, managed the children so they wouldn't get in Teyla's way, and tried to keep from looking at the round, childish face of the mother, red and drawn in pain.
Still, he couldn't block out her whimpers, or the moans that grew to screams as the labour progressed. And when it came to the end, John gritted his teeth and told his stomach to stay down as Teyla delivered the baby, tied the cord with string, and put the bloody afterbirth in a bowl to one side.
"Do I want to know?" John asked, indicating the bowl as he took the bloody sheets she handed him to give to the youths assigned the washing.
Teyla's smile was wan and weary. "No," she said simply. "You do not."
Later - it felt like hours, although it couldn't have been more than one hour - John settled beside Teyla on a bench positioned high over the river. The night was falling pretty fast. "I took Rodney some dinner."
"With or without some of the afterbirth?" Teyla asked, a smile touching her lips as she glanced up at him.
John made a face. He could have done without Ronon's volunteering of that piece of information. "Ronon's going to head along and keep him company when the sun goes down. You know how lonely Rodney gets when he doesn't have an audience."
Her laughter bubbled out in the evening. "He works best with an audience."
"Grandstanding," John muttered, before he looked at the woman beside him, the curve of her cheek faintly burnished by the sky's last light. "So, you've got a namesake, now."
"So it appears."
The twilight silence fluttered down around them, rustling leaves, birdcalls overhead, the ripple of the river far below them. Talking with Teyla wasn't usually this much of an effort, but tonight her answers were easy yet didn't invite him to continue.
But he had at least one more thing to say. "You did well, you know."
Her hand slid over his, curled into his palm, squeezed once. "I had help."
And they sat there, hands touching, as the last light vanished from the day.
- fin -
Title: The Unknown Song
Request: greenconverses - Teyla, John - guitar.
Rating: PG-13 (gen/UST)
Notes: I'm going with 'John can play, but not sing' rather than JF's "can't play, can't sing, can handle a P-90 a little"...
The Unknown Song
To put it nicely, John cannot sing.
He tried once, sitting back in a slouch chair with his guitar on his lap, picking out the chords of a song and only briefly glancing up at her now and then with a look that threatened laughter at his own expense.
Out of respect for their friendship, Teyla did not laugh in his face. But neither did she compliment his singing - if 'singing' it could be called.
"Okay, I know it's pretty bad," he offered at the end, resting one hand on the body of the guitar while scrubbing at his hair with the other. "But we can't all sing like you. Who'd be left to appreciate?"
Certainly, there is no-one in the expedition that Teyla knows of who appreciates John's singing. Rodney makes snide remarks about torturing cats, while Ronon makes a point of sticking with the more rhythmic musics of Earth.
But Teyla returns to their 'jam sessions' time and time again, although she is given to understand from Carson that 'jam' is also the preserved fruit spread that John calls 'jelly' and Rodney calls 'poison - at least for me', and John does not sing for her again.
He plays songs for her, though, strumming through the music, and occasionally correcting himself when he hits the wrong chord, or plays a dissonance that does not appropriately resolve in the Lantean fashion. Teyla learns the lyrics while John picks out the tune, and when she occasionally changes the words of the song -Lantean lyrics always seem to be about love and matters of the heart - he just grins and keeps playing.
"You know, you should do a music recording."
Teyla laughs as she sits back and sips her lemonade. She has developed a fondness for the drink, and it is safe to have it here, as it is not when they are in company with Rodney. "Here? In Atlantis?"
"Well, if you ever come to Earth for more than a shopping visit in my brain," he says, referring to that time when they believed they had found a way to reach Earth again. "You could sing some of your own people's songs, do some music covers..."
"Cultural exchange?" Teyla asks as John starts playing a tune with a lilting swing that yet holds a hint of melancholy.
"Something like that." It's not an easy song, several of the chords don't come out quite right, but John keeps playing and Teyla watches and listens and tries to pick out the melody from his chords and the humming that is not quite beneath his breath, but cannot.
At the end, he finds her watching him with a smile. "What?"
"You did not play the tune."
"No," he agrees. "I didn't."
Teyla has learned to recognise when John is being deliberately obtuse. Her curiosity is piqued, but she does not press it and instead flips through the music books, looking for a title that she recognises or one that takes her fancy.
After that, she catches John playing snatches of the unnamed song during their sessions, small sections that she learns to recognise. It is as though his fingers seek that tune of their own accord with no conscious prompting from John.
One afternoon, months later, she is in one of the offices with Laura, trying to decipher Carson's latest notes on the Wraith retrovirus. The stereo plays through a selection of songs from Laura's iPod, and as one song ends and another begins, Teyla pauses in the midst of a sentence.
It is the song John plays but will not tell her, the swing of the beat and the opening chords familiar to her ears, although richer, played with greater skill, with more instruments and more complex harmonics than can be performed by a single man with a guitar. But it is the unknown song. Teyla turns to Laura, who is frowning at a mission report. "What song is this?"
"Hmm? What?" Laura squints briefly at the roof as though to collect her thoughts. "Oh, this? Eric Clapton singing a live version of Layla. This release came out when I was still in middle school, although the original is...oh...thirty years old. God, even middle school was years ago..." Her eyes fix interestedly on Teyla. "Why'd you ask?"
Teyla does not answer Laura's curiousity. She is listening to the song's lyrics and the husky croon of the singer. "I have heard this song before and did not know it. That is all."
The next time John begins playing it, though, Teyla watches him and cannot help wondering, just a little.
-fin-
Title: Where You Find It
Request: ubiquitous_girl - Elizabeth - courage
Rating: PG-13 (gen)
Notes: I went with the original prompt, just no Radek.
Where You Find It
It's during a private, professional conversation with Kate that Elizabeth learns that at least one of the newer scientists is having panic attacks, dating back twenty years to her rape as a child. One of the personnel off the Daedelus' current complement vaguely resembles her blurred, jumbled memories of the rapist and what was buried has risen again - no fault to either the scientist or the unfortunate man.
"She doesn't want pity," Kate says firmly. "I don't think she needs it. But she doesn't need Rodney harassing her about the hours she works, or her inability to concentrate right now."
"I'll speak with him," Elizabeth assures her. "Without mentioning why."
"Thank you. She's tells me she's not going to let it drag her down," adds Kate, "but she needs time to work on her reactions."
"That takes courage."
"Yes."
On her way to see Rodney, Elizabeth reflects on her conversation with Kate.
She can appreciate John's reckless actions and Rodney's self-proclaimed heroism, but that kind of bravery is not the same as the steady, endless weight of life's unkindnesses pressing down on an individual.
Her mother once said that bravery was facing something that had to be overcome once, while courage was facing something that had to be overcome every day.
Elizabeth imagines it takes courage to face the prejudice of a people not her own every morning, to bear the knowledge that the gift that always made her special is an inheritance from those she considers her enemies.
She imagines it takes courage to keep fighting back against the Wraith day after day with no clear hope of an ending, to face the guilt of surviving when so few of his people did.
And it definitely takes courage to deal with the demons of one's own past, and not let them hold you hostage.
Courage is where you find it.
Courage, it would seem, is nothing less than the power to overcome danger, misfortune, fear, injustice, while continuing to affirm inwardly that life with all its sorrows is good; that everything is meaningful even if in a sense beyond our understanding; and that there is always tomorrow.
- fin -
Request: nsi_meepers - Lorne, Elizabeth - office.
Rating: PG-13 (gen)
Notes: Slightly rough, I think. I didn't have time to polish the edges.
Comfortable And Casual
Within thirty seconds of Major Evan Lorne presenting himself to her in her office, Elizabeth knew she was looking at an essential personality as far divorced from John Sheppard's reckless drive as was possible for two men who shared a military background and, presumably, many of the same character traits essential to succeeding as a member of either Stargate Command or the Atlantis expedition.
If Major Sheppard was the reckless hero, flying in the face of adversity, Major Lorne would be the steady anchor, holding firm in the winds of change.
"I see you've been at the SGC for two years, Major."
"Yes, ma'am." The Major answered easily enough, his pose neither stiff nor slouched. Comfortable and casual - as Elizabeth suspected he would be in all situations. "Since early 2003. Ran a few missions through the Stargate - mostly S&R. When General O'Neill asked for volunteers for the Atlantis rescue expedition, I volunteered." His smile had a charming self-deprecation to it - a far cry from Rodney's immodesty. "I mean, it's Atlantis, ma'am."
Elizabeth smiled to herself and at him. "Yes, it is." She regarded him. "I believe Major Sheppard's already told you that you'll be commanding the Atlantis military forces in his absence?"
"He did, ma'am."
"Good. I've appointed Teyla Emmagen of Athos as temporary expedition leader in my absence." And if that decision was going to land the fat in the fryer in certain quarters, Elizabeth didn't care. "You'll be working with her in the day-to-day management of Atlantis, along with Dr. Radek Zelenka, who'll be heading up the scientific division in Dr. McKay's absence."
She paused, and let the silence ask the question that was at the heart of her concern over John's choice of replacement. Will that be a problem for you, Major?
"I've met Ms. Emmagen," the Major said without any sign of resentment or surprise. "She's quite unique."
A pronouncement which could go either way. In her head, Elizabeth grimaced and hoped that John's judgement would show up well in this. The last thing she wanted to return to was a power struggle between the newly-appointed military leader of Atlantis and Atlantis' best ally in the Pegasus galaxy.
"You understand that the structure of authority runs differently here to the SGC, then?"
Now his mouth twitched, as though a hint of humour was repressed. "So Sheppard has indicated, ma'am."
She took that as an encouraging sign. "I've called Teyla and Radek in here shortly for a handover, before Major Sheppard, Dr. McKay, and I have to go to Earth. Hopefully, during that meeting, you'll get a feel for how things work around here."
And maybe she'd have a few of her fears laid to rest. Atlantis was Elizabeth's baby, after all.
"I hope I will, ma'am." Again, the smile flashed out, boyish and easy. In it, Elizabeth suspected she saw a hint of his acknowledgement of the trust she was putting in him, leaving the care of the city in his hands, and it heartened her. "Thank you."
"Thank you for the rescue," she said, acknowledging his part among the volunteers that had come through to bolster them in the Wraith siege. And, because it seemed right to say, although he'd been here for several days already, she added, "And welcome to Atlantis, major."
- fin -
Title: Unregretted
Request: beaniesheppard - John, Ronon - gym
Rating: PG-13 (gen)
Notes: Teyla sneaked in. She does this sometimes. I couldn't quite just limit it to the two of them, they needed a catalyst, and Teyla was it.
Unregretted
It didn't initially bother John that Ronon Dex could be most often found in the gym, training against the marines, the officers, and the enlisted personnel. The man was "a lean, mean, Wraith-killing machine" - Rodney's quotation, not John's.
It irked a little after he encountered Teyla using their sparring time to test herself against Ronon. Just a little. Because the man was obviously good enough to give Teyla a challenge, and John...well...wasn't.
"You are not settled today," she said as she offered him a hand up for the third time.
John rolled a shoulder, feeling the shift of muscle across his back. "It's just...the thing with Rodney and Cadman," he said, deciding not to mention Ronon Dex at all.
"A difficult situation," Teyla said. "Perhaps we should run through the basics again?"
"I'm fine," John said, more emphatically than he'd intended.
Of course 'fine' entailed being laid out on the floor four more times before the end of their session.
The thing was, he didn't have the time to develop the kind of skills Ronon had as a fighter. Since the siege and the influx of military personnel into the city, John had been run off his feet with the admin work of commanding - stuff he'd never had to do more than glance at in the months since the expedition had begun.
And while Colonel Sheppard the military commander appreciated Ronon Dex's skills as a soldier, John Sheppard the man felt just a little intimidated by Ronon Dex.
He was picking up his towel from his latest sparring session with Teyla when the doors hissed open.
"Am I interrupting?"
"Not at all," Teyla said, her voice silk-smooth. John tensed, tossed his towel in his bag, and prepared to say that he was just leaving. "I was just about to leave."
A second later, her footsteps retreated down the corridor, leaving the two men alone.
John turned. "You wanted to see me?"
Ronon stalked around the room, but the guy didn't seem angry, just restless. "Yeah." He poked at the punching dummy, watching as the rubbery grey material swiftly filled in and sealed over again. "Your marines could do with more work in hand to hand." No introductions, skip the niceties, go for the throat. That seemed to be Ronon's all-around modus operandi.
"I heard a few of them are training with you."
"Yeah." Ronon glanced at him. "That okay?"
"It's a free world."
"You're the commander around here."
"So?"
Ronon shrugged, all bare arms and shoulders. "Teyla suggested I ask."
Thank you, Teyla. John looked at what was being offered and figured that all the military personnel could do with some lessons from Ronon Dex. "If you want to start up regular classes, you should probably talk to Sergeant Hutton. He'd be able to set up schedules for you that won't interfere with our missions." The guy had gotten this far - and Elizabeth was right, Ronon wasn't the chatty type - John figured he could make it easier on him.
The dark head looked up. "Hutton?"
"Yeah."
Ronon nodded. "Thanks."
"Hey, you save me the effort of whipping their butts into action. It's a fair deal."
White teeth flashed in a grin as Ronon turned to go. John scooped up his bag and followed. "You hungry?"
"Going for a run."
"Well, let me know next time, I'll come with." At Ronon's surprised look, John shrugged. "I could probably do with some whipping into shape."
"Thought Teyla did that."
"Okay," he said, "some more whipping into shape."
Ronon snorted, but he was still smiling. "Midafternoon tomorrow. 1500 hours. Starting here."
It was at that point that John had a feeling he was going to regret this all over - his body, his ego, the lot.
"Okay. 1500 hours here."
Ronon nodded, grinned, and ran off. The man was fast.
As it happened, John's body and ego might have regretted it, but the leader of AR-1 certainly didn't.
- fin -
Title: Fool's Ally
Request: writerrising - Radek, Teyla - mainland
Rating: PG-13 (gen/UST)
Notes: I'm afraid the tenses may be confused in this one. I started writing it in one direction and tense, then ran a flashback and then had to completely rearrange and edit the story to get it to work. Hopefully it's worked out okay!
Fool's Ally
Rodney believed Radek's computer lessons with Teyla were a waste of Radek's time. Radek did not agree then, and is glad of it now.
Teyla is their ally, and has been eagerly learning of Earth ways and customs. In Radek's mind, that interest requires a return interest, and if he does not admit that he is flattered by Teyla' s attention, then it is only a small part of what fascinates him about the Athosian woman.
And so, during one of her lessons in computer use, he asked if Teyla would mind if he accompanied her, Colonel Sheppard, Dr. Beckett, and Dr. Sadler to the mainland one day.
She looked up, surprised. "I... I do not think it will be of great interest to you," she admitted . "Dr. McKay does not think much of my people."
"Rodney does not think much of anyone," Radek remarked, Teyla's subdued tones inciting him to more sharpness than is perhaps warranted in his opinion of Rodney. "If you do not mind... I do not often go through the Stargate, but I would like to meet your people."
What he meant was that he would like to know more of a people who could produce such a woman as Teyla Emmagen, who had let neither Rodney's scorn, nor her own ignorance stand in her way.
And Radek would not be averse to knowing more of Teyla, too.
"Your company would be very welcome, Dr. Zelenka."
"Please," he said briskly, hoping that his flush of pleasure was not obvious, "It is Radek."
And so he sits in a 'jumper of supplies, with Carson Beckett in the seat behind Teyla, and Dr. Sadler's nose in a set of notes she's made from conversations with Teyla, and Major Sheppard flying them in with the kind of assured arrogance that is so common in the military of this expedition.
"We're nearly there!" Sheppard says as the land mass grows in their sights. "Ladies and gentlemen, please return all seats to the upright position, and store your tray tables away in the appropriate space. We're beginning our descent and should be safe in Los Casa d'Athos in twenty minutes."
As Radek settles himself back in his chair, he catches Teyla's glance back at him.
Her smile is slow to grow, yet brilliant, and Radek thinks Rodney is a fool.
- fin -
Titles: Blurring Lines
Request: triciabyrne - Evan Lorne/Kate Heightmeyer - couch
Rating: NC-17 (het)
Notes: Not a pairing I've ever been asked for before, and I'm not so sure I'm any good at writing Kate, but...here goes!
Blurring Lines
When a female psychiatrist takes male patients, there are almost inevitably jokes about lying on her couch.
Thankfully, in Atlantis, she has no 'couch', and the military discipline of most of her patients is a bulwark against the most tactless of quips. That doesn't stop the scientific contingent of the expedition, but Kate can manage them.
Professional distance is second nature, habitual. It carries easily into her personal interactions in the city, and although she talks, laughs, plays cards, and makes jokes, with others in the city, Kate is personal with no-one.
Still, there are times when Major Evan Lorne is sitting in his chair, easy and comfortable, with the slanting light through the windows tinting his hair with gold highlights in the oaken brown, Kate thinks that she would like a lounge in which to lay him.
She would undo his shirt, button by button, while he reflects on his father's distaste for his son's "arty ways", and how the military had been Evan's way of appeasing his father. Her fingers would skim his chest, lightly brushing through the hairs across his pecs, circling the dipped hollow of his nipples with her nails while his hips shifted at her caress.
Kate would ease open his fly and curl her fingers around him, watch him quiver and forget what he was going to say about how the military ended up suiting him better than he'd ever though. And she would slide her fingers the length of his cock, slide her tongue across the swollen tip while he reached for her body. He would take her body in his hands, skimming the curve of her breast, savouring each nipple with a gourmet's pleasure while his fingers dipped between her thighs. He would welcome her atop him, thrusting up as she thrust down, desire a humming tension in her belly as ecstacy drew closer...closer...
It takes Kate a moment to realise that the Major stopped talking and that she's staring into space.
A flush sweeps across her cheeks and she looks down at her half-written notes. "I'm sorry, Major. I..." She has no excuse for her distraction - nothing that she'd say to his face.
He grins easily. "It's okay, Doc." One hand rubs absently at the nape of his neck, a gesture of embarrassment, almost shyness. "Actually, I was thinking that...I wouldn't mind painting you like that. Thinking about whatever you're thinking about, I mean." He meets her eye. "If you're interested in being painted, and don't mind, of course."
Amidst the heat of embarrassment and pleasure, Kate wonders if there's a couch to be found anywhere in Atlantis.
- fin -
Title: First Cry, Last Light
Request: roguish_angel - Teyla, John - babies
Rating: PG-13 (gen with UST)
Notes: I dislike taking the obvious route with a prompt like this. Any babies involved are neither Teyla's nor John's.
Challenge: fanfic100 prompt #029 - birth.
First Cry, Last Light
Teyla caught his arm when he tried to follow Ronon and Rodney out of the tent. "Stay."
John knew he should have moved faster. With a glance at the screen behind which two adolescent girls bathed the forehead of another girl, while the father of her child murmured useless encouragements. "Teyla, I know nothing about childbirth."
"And I know little more," she said. "But it is more than these know."
The last cullings on this planet had taken most of their adult populace a year ago, and the four remaining adults had died of a winter fever. The oldest person in this community was an eighteen year-old boy who'd greeted Teyla's arrival on the planet with panicked relief.
"We could go back and get Carson..." John began.
"Will Rodney get the 'jumper repaired in time?"
Even Rodney could only produce so many miracles out of his ass in a given time.
"Ronon..."
"Will intimidate her. You will not." Neither of them spoke of Rodney.
"The blind leading the blind," he muttered. "You've seen births before?"
"I have attended them," Teyla said quietly. "I helped midwife Jinto into the world, as well as other children of my people. I have never done it alone and I do not wish to begin now."
John took a deep breath. His life in the Pegasus galaxy seemed to consist of being thrown in the deep end, with the universe waiting to see if he would sink or swim. "All right," he said, a little grumpily. "What do you need me to do?"
Boiling water and appropriating Ronon's largest and smallest knives were the easy parts. He co-opted Ronon to collect wood for the fire, marshal the children's camp into some semblance of order, and do some hunting, then radio'd Rodney, who complained about being stuck out in the 'jumper alone. John offered him a place in the birthing tent; Rodney shut up.
The labour was slow and bloody, and worse than war. John handed over hot cloths, administered painkillers, managed the children so they wouldn't get in Teyla's way, and tried to keep from looking at the round, childish face of the mother, red and drawn in pain.
Still, he couldn't block out her whimpers, or the moans that grew to screams as the labour progressed. And when it came to the end, John gritted his teeth and told his stomach to stay down as Teyla delivered the baby, tied the cord with string, and put the bloody afterbirth in a bowl to one side.
"Do I want to know?" John asked, indicating the bowl as he took the bloody sheets she handed him to give to the youths assigned the washing.
Teyla's smile was wan and weary. "No," she said simply. "You do not."
Later - it felt like hours, although it couldn't have been more than one hour - John settled beside Teyla on a bench positioned high over the river. The night was falling pretty fast. "I took Rodney some dinner."
"With or without some of the afterbirth?" Teyla asked, a smile touching her lips as she glanced up at him.
John made a face. He could have done without Ronon's volunteering of that piece of information. "Ronon's going to head along and keep him company when the sun goes down. You know how lonely Rodney gets when he doesn't have an audience."
Her laughter bubbled out in the evening. "He works best with an audience."
"Grandstanding," John muttered, before he looked at the woman beside him, the curve of her cheek faintly burnished by the sky's last light. "So, you've got a namesake, now."
"So it appears."
The twilight silence fluttered down around them, rustling leaves, birdcalls overhead, the ripple of the river far below them. Talking with Teyla wasn't usually this much of an effort, but tonight her answers were easy yet didn't invite him to continue.
But he had at least one more thing to say. "You did well, you know."
Her hand slid over his, curled into his palm, squeezed once. "I had help."
And they sat there, hands touching, as the last light vanished from the day.
- fin -
Title: The Unknown Song
Request: greenconverses - Teyla, John - guitar.
Rating: PG-13 (gen/UST)
Notes: I'm going with 'John can play, but not sing' rather than JF's "can't play, can't sing, can handle a P-90 a little"...
The Unknown Song
To put it nicely, John cannot sing.
He tried once, sitting back in a slouch chair with his guitar on his lap, picking out the chords of a song and only briefly glancing up at her now and then with a look that threatened laughter at his own expense.
Out of respect for their friendship, Teyla did not laugh in his face. But neither did she compliment his singing - if 'singing' it could be called.
"Okay, I know it's pretty bad," he offered at the end, resting one hand on the body of the guitar while scrubbing at his hair with the other. "But we can't all sing like you. Who'd be left to appreciate?"
Certainly, there is no-one in the expedition that Teyla knows of who appreciates John's singing. Rodney makes snide remarks about torturing cats, while Ronon makes a point of sticking with the more rhythmic musics of Earth.
But Teyla returns to their 'jam sessions' time and time again, although she is given to understand from Carson that 'jam' is also the preserved fruit spread that John calls 'jelly' and Rodney calls 'poison - at least for me', and John does not sing for her again.
He plays songs for her, though, strumming through the music, and occasionally correcting himself when he hits the wrong chord, or plays a dissonance that does not appropriately resolve in the Lantean fashion. Teyla learns the lyrics while John picks out the tune, and when she occasionally changes the words of the song -Lantean lyrics always seem to be about love and matters of the heart - he just grins and keeps playing.
"You know, you should do a music recording."
Teyla laughs as she sits back and sips her lemonade. She has developed a fondness for the drink, and it is safe to have it here, as it is not when they are in company with Rodney. "Here? In Atlantis?"
"Well, if you ever come to Earth for more than a shopping visit in my brain," he says, referring to that time when they believed they had found a way to reach Earth again. "You could sing some of your own people's songs, do some music covers..."
"Cultural exchange?" Teyla asks as John starts playing a tune with a lilting swing that yet holds a hint of melancholy.
"Something like that." It's not an easy song, several of the chords don't come out quite right, but John keeps playing and Teyla watches and listens and tries to pick out the melody from his chords and the humming that is not quite beneath his breath, but cannot.
At the end, he finds her watching him with a smile. "What?"
"You did not play the tune."
"No," he agrees. "I didn't."
Teyla has learned to recognise when John is being deliberately obtuse. Her curiosity is piqued, but she does not press it and instead flips through the music books, looking for a title that she recognises or one that takes her fancy.
After that, she catches John playing snatches of the unnamed song during their sessions, small sections that she learns to recognise. It is as though his fingers seek that tune of their own accord with no conscious prompting from John.
One afternoon, months later, she is in one of the offices with Laura, trying to decipher Carson's latest notes on the Wraith retrovirus. The stereo plays through a selection of songs from Laura's iPod, and as one song ends and another begins, Teyla pauses in the midst of a sentence.
It is the song John plays but will not tell her, the swing of the beat and the opening chords familiar to her ears, although richer, played with greater skill, with more instruments and more complex harmonics than can be performed by a single man with a guitar. But it is the unknown song. Teyla turns to Laura, who is frowning at a mission report. "What song is this?"
"Hmm? What?" Laura squints briefly at the roof as though to collect her thoughts. "Oh, this? Eric Clapton singing a live version of Layla. This release came out when I was still in middle school, although the original is...oh...thirty years old. God, even middle school was years ago..." Her eyes fix interestedly on Teyla. "Why'd you ask?"
Teyla does not answer Laura's curiousity. She is listening to the song's lyrics and the husky croon of the singer. "I have heard this song before and did not know it. That is all."
The next time John begins playing it, though, Teyla watches him and cannot help wondering, just a little.
-fin-
Title: Where You Find It
Request: ubiquitous_girl - Elizabeth - courage
Rating: PG-13 (gen)
Notes: I went with the original prompt, just no Radek.
Where You Find It
It's during a private, professional conversation with Kate that Elizabeth learns that at least one of the newer scientists is having panic attacks, dating back twenty years to her rape as a child. One of the personnel off the Daedelus' current complement vaguely resembles her blurred, jumbled memories of the rapist and what was buried has risen again - no fault to either the scientist or the unfortunate man.
"She doesn't want pity," Kate says firmly. "I don't think she needs it. But she doesn't need Rodney harassing her about the hours she works, or her inability to concentrate right now."
"I'll speak with him," Elizabeth assures her. "Without mentioning why."
"Thank you. She's tells me she's not going to let it drag her down," adds Kate, "but she needs time to work on her reactions."
"That takes courage."
"Yes."
On her way to see Rodney, Elizabeth reflects on her conversation with Kate.
She can appreciate John's reckless actions and Rodney's self-proclaimed heroism, but that kind of bravery is not the same as the steady, endless weight of life's unkindnesses pressing down on an individual.
Her mother once said that bravery was facing something that had to be overcome once, while courage was facing something that had to be overcome every day.
Elizabeth imagines it takes courage to face the prejudice of a people not her own every morning, to bear the knowledge that the gift that always made her special is an inheritance from those she considers her enemies.
She imagines it takes courage to keep fighting back against the Wraith day after day with no clear hope of an ending, to face the guilt of surviving when so few of his people did.
And it definitely takes courage to deal with the demons of one's own past, and not let them hold you hostage.
Courage is where you find it.
Courage, it would seem, is nothing less than the power to overcome danger, misfortune, fear, injustice, while continuing to affirm inwardly that life with all its sorrows is good; that everything is meaningful even if in a sense beyond our understanding; and that there is always tomorrow.
- fin -