Fic: Crazy Beautiful (Prompt 038: Touch)
038. Touch
Title: Crazy Beautiful
Rating: PG-13 to be safe.
Character: John Sheppard
Fandoms: Stargate Atlantis/Firefly (slight John Sheppard/River Tam)
Disclaimer: Neither Stargate Atlantis nor Firefly belong to me, worse luck.
A/N: This is my first prompt, so I hope I've got the tags and things right...
Notes: She appears out of nowhere, but he knows her.
She appears out of nowhere, this beautiful little slip of a girl, and while protocol dictates that she be taken first to the infirmary and then to a guarded room while they try to find out where she’s come from, every instinct is screaming at him to trust her.
“Lower your weapons,” he orders his soldiers, and steps towards her. Her eyes are wide as she stares at him. “What’s your name?” he asks softly. She can’t be more than twenty years old.
She turns slowly, looking at the marines that surround her and at Elizabeth Weir and Radek Zelenka, who are watching from above.
“City of the lost,” she whispers. “Cold, so cold for so long, then you came to wake her up.” She sways for a moment, and John moves forward to catch her if she were to faint or fall. “You,” she says, looking at him again, “so much blood and - and the blue! Flying, flying away from it, they’re screaming, John, they’re screaming!”
“How do you know my name?” John demands, frowning. “Who are you?” She backs away from him, then remembers the marines and shakes her head, bringing her hands up to shield her face, terrified or confused or both. Her name comes to him out of nowhere. “River?”
She stills, and then her hands lower and she looks at him again. “Yes,” she says, just above a whisper. “River. Like a stream, only bigger. There were rivers on Earth-that-was that were miles long and had fish that stripped flesh from bone.” She reaches out, takes his hand. “I can do that too,” she confides.
“Right,” John says, uncertain of her words but instinctively knowing her meaning. “River, we’re not going to hurt you.”
“Hands of blue,” she says resentfully. “Got doctors here, scientists that like to prod and poke, don’t know any better, messing with things that shouldn’t be messed with.” Her voice has risen to a scream; she releases John’s hand and whirls, pointing unerringly at Carson Beckett, who has been called to the control centre. “You! You tried to change her, make her be what she wasn’t!” she shrieks.
Carson stutters. “Who is she?” he demands. “What’s she talking about?”
“Little girl trying to be good,” she says, imitating his accent with eerie accuracy. “Tried to fix her code, but the code wouldn’t take.” She steps back, pressing close to John. “You’ll keep me safe,” she says. “John. Shepherd, but not a priest.”
He cups her face with his hands, and she mirrors the action, giggling as his stubble tickles her palms. His eyes close for a moment.
“Colonel Sheppard!” Elizabeth calls from the balcony. “What’s going on?”
“She’s not a threat to us,” John returns, opening his eyes but not looking away from River. She is peering into his mind, brushing past the painful memories and soothing any lingering worries. She shares some of herself in exchange - either that or he is within her mind, moving of his own accord, but he refuses to think about that.
“Oh, let me guess. Another ascended Ancient.”
John pulls away from River and glares at Rodney McKay.
“Shut up, McKay,” he snaps. “You don’t know anything about it.”
But River is drifting towards Rodney, a strange expression on her face. “You - I could have been like you,” she says. She reaches up on tiptoes and presses a kiss to his cheek; he touches his skin afterwards, feeling as though she has left a brand on him.
“It isn’t the method you know,” she tells him, “but the parameters are the same. Different equations for different people.” She flinches. “Burning so bright, but the numbers are wrong.” She turns, changing temperament in an instant. Now she is bright, cheerful, as young as she seems to be. “John, my stomach is empty.”
“We’ll get you some food,” John nods. “Then we’ll try to get you home, okay?”
“Home is a relative concept,” River says. “Based upon sentimentality and connections to people who may or may not exist.”
“Don’t say that,” John says, taking her hand again. “They’re real. It’s all real. I’m right here, River.”
She rolls her eyes at him. “Don’t be a boob.”
Elizabeth is standing next to Rodney now, and River moves towards her. She dips an elegant curtsey, swinging out her red skirt.
“River Tam,” she says. “An identifier given at birth by biological creators. You are Elizabeth. You’re the leader here, make the hard decisions when no one else can. You don’t like it though.” Then, as if disinterested, she returns once more to John. “Noises in here,” she says, pointing at her stomach. “Food is required.”
“Yes ma’am,” John smiles, and takes her to the mess hall, hand in hers and arms brushing occasionally.