The Speed of Acceptance, by blade_girl
Title: The Speed of Acceptance
Author: Blade blade_girl
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Category: Gen
Warnings: Major character death
Summary: John has plenty of experience in losing comrades. He knows how to handle it.
A/N: Like so many others, my assignment for the picfor1000 challenge managed to meet the criteria for the Missing Persons challenge as well. My picture prompt can be found here. Thanks to crazymadi for the speedy beta and advice.
ETA: I've now added two companion pieces to this story, Life After Survival and Ritual of Denial.
The trip home in Jumper Three is fast, though there’s no hurry. John expects no lessening of pain, no loosening of the knot in his chest. Their homecoming will merely bring on a new front of grief: a beginning for others, a freshening for them. But returning is what must be done, so the trip might as well be quick.
His peripheral vision catches Rodney periodically glancing over his shoulder. It’s a stupid, pointless act, and it annoys John increasingly, like a pebble in his boot on a long hike. But he says nothing about it; says nothing, period. There’s nothing to be said, and they won’t be stuck in here much longer.
He divides his attention between the stars and the HUD. Rodney’s a lesser pilot, but he knows the various displays, so he must be aware that activating them is mental busywork, but doesn’t say anything. John almost wishes he would, because God knows he sure would have bitched about it any other time. If his silence is for John’s benefit, it’s a waste.
John has plenty of experience in losing comrades. He knows how to handle it.
The unnatural silence in the jumper is oppressive, but it’s better than listening to whining. John sees yet another backward glance and presses his lips together. Surely to God he’ll stop doing that soon.
At least they have only scratches and bruises, so the infirmary check will be routine. There’ll be a series of sessions with Heightmeyer, but that, too, is routine. He’s been through this sort of thing in the past, before Atlantis. He can deal with it.
Another glance to the back of the jumper prompts him to turn off the HUD and demand coldly, “Just what are you looking at back there?”
Rodney turns his head toward him - John sees it peripherally but doesn’t turn his own - and is silent for a few seconds before answering quietly, almost timidly. “Nothing.”
“Exactly. So stop looking.”
They don’t speak for the rest of the trip, and Rodney never looks back again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“It was just so… so stupid!” Rodney says in the debriefing. He’s sitting at the end of the table, adjacent to Elizabeth. Lorne’s a couple of seats from John on the other side. John sits stiffly in his chair. Twenty minutes into it and he’s ready for the meeting to end. Sometimes people don’t come back. Soldiers accept this. Civilians, not so much. “Just a stupid, pointless accident.”
Elizabeth nods, eyes filled with shock and pain, and looks to John. “Is it remotely possible that they’re still alive?”
John shifts in his seat, not eager but willing to be cruelly blunt if it will promote acceptance. Rodney saves him the trouble, barking bitter laughter. “What part of ‘fell 400 meters into a river’ is confusing you, Elizabeth? They plummeted from a cliff higher than the Empire State Building into the Pegasus version of the Colorado rapids!”
Elizabeth flinches minutely and looks at her hands, jaw flexing in self-restraint. Rodney fidgets, messing with the Velcro splint on his wrist. Because he’d never complained, John hadn’t known about the sprain until Carson’s exam.
“We took the jumper down,” John says, “followed the river a good five miles before the canyon got too narrow. Life signs detector was clear. They couldn’t have survived the fall, much less the rapids. We’ll try to recover the bodies.”
When Elizabeth nods, he leaves the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They find Ronon wedged in a crevice; Teyla, entangled in weeds and brush on a sandbar. They’ve been in the water for days and the condition of the bodies is heartbreaking, but he’d had no hope of anything better. At least the Athosians will have closure.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Elizabeth’s concerned,” Kate tells him. “She says you aren’t yourself.”
He laughs. “Then who am I?”
“People are worried about you.”
“I do my job.”
“Your demeanor since the accident is… different.”
John shrugs. “Got a lot on my mind. I’m adjusting.”
Kate watches him. “Have you thought about who you’ll select for your team?”
He shrugs again; it’s not idle curiosity. “Still evaluating candidates.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Your email said you wanted something?” he says tightly. McKay snorts and keeps walking.
“Just wondering if you’ve picked out your new team yet.”
“Still thinking about it.”
A pause, brief. “Will I be on it?”
John stops and glares at him. “Why would you ask that?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you hardly speak to me anymore?”
“Oh, Christ…”
McKay grabs his arm. “Look, Sheppard… I’m sorry, okay? It all happened too fast! You were the only one I could reach in time.”
John shakes him off. “This is stupid. Nobody blames you.”
“Then what’s going on?”
“I don’t have time for this!”
“I’ve noticed. Everybody’s noticed! Why don’t you stop wallowing in your fortress of solitude and actually deal with things?”
Rage is something John has learned to harness. He pokes Rodney in the chest with an index finger. “You need to back off. Now.”
“Right. Giving you space has worked wonders so far.”
“Why don’t you just go play little tin science god and let me be?”
McKay’s eyes are like blue flint. “You know, it’s difficult having to mourn someone who didn’t die.” He turns, waves open the door to his lab, and says, “If you’re ever back in town? Give me a call.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He sits up in bed, the clack of sticks still ringing in his head.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It’s quiet in the jumper bay, and minimally lit for night. John makes his way without hurry, reaching out to touch each craft he passes.
When he gets to Jumper Three, he lets himself in.
He hasn’t flown Three since that day weeks ago. It hasn’t changed.
The jumper springs to life at his presence, and for an instant, that infuriates him. But he knows this is just a distraction and wills the anger away.
He sits in the pilot chair, listens to the silence… and turns to look at the empty seats behind him.
Author: Blade blade_girl
Fandom: Stargate: Atlantis
Category: Gen
Warnings: Major character death
Summary: John has plenty of experience in losing comrades. He knows how to handle it.
A/N: Like so many others, my assignment for the picfor1000 challenge managed to meet the criteria for the Missing Persons challenge as well. My picture prompt can be found here. Thanks to crazymadi for the speedy beta and advice.
ETA: I've now added two companion pieces to this story, Life After Survival and Ritual of Denial.
The trip home in Jumper Three is fast, though there’s no hurry. John expects no lessening of pain, no loosening of the knot in his chest. Their homecoming will merely bring on a new front of grief: a beginning for others, a freshening for them. But returning is what must be done, so the trip might as well be quick.
His peripheral vision catches Rodney periodically glancing over his shoulder. It’s a stupid, pointless act, and it annoys John increasingly, like a pebble in his boot on a long hike. But he says nothing about it; says nothing, period. There’s nothing to be said, and they won’t be stuck in here much longer.
He divides his attention between the stars and the HUD. Rodney’s a lesser pilot, but he knows the various displays, so he must be aware that activating them is mental busywork, but doesn’t say anything. John almost wishes he would, because God knows he sure would have bitched about it any other time. If his silence is for John’s benefit, it’s a waste.
John has plenty of experience in losing comrades. He knows how to handle it.
The unnatural silence in the jumper is oppressive, but it’s better than listening to whining. John sees yet another backward glance and presses his lips together. Surely to God he’ll stop doing that soon.
At least they have only scratches and bruises, so the infirmary check will be routine. There’ll be a series of sessions with Heightmeyer, but that, too, is routine. He’s been through this sort of thing in the past, before Atlantis. He can deal with it.
Another glance to the back of the jumper prompts him to turn off the HUD and demand coldly, “Just what are you looking at back there?”
Rodney turns his head toward him - John sees it peripherally but doesn’t turn his own - and is silent for a few seconds before answering quietly, almost timidly. “Nothing.”
“Exactly. So stop looking.”
They don’t speak for the rest of the trip, and Rodney never looks back again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“It was just so… so stupid!” Rodney says in the debriefing. He’s sitting at the end of the table, adjacent to Elizabeth. Lorne’s a couple of seats from John on the other side. John sits stiffly in his chair. Twenty minutes into it and he’s ready for the meeting to end. Sometimes people don’t come back. Soldiers accept this. Civilians, not so much. “Just a stupid, pointless accident.”
Elizabeth nods, eyes filled with shock and pain, and looks to John. “Is it remotely possible that they’re still alive?”
John shifts in his seat, not eager but willing to be cruelly blunt if it will promote acceptance. Rodney saves him the trouble, barking bitter laughter. “What part of ‘fell 400 meters into a river’ is confusing you, Elizabeth? They plummeted from a cliff higher than the Empire State Building into the Pegasus version of the Colorado rapids!”
Elizabeth flinches minutely and looks at her hands, jaw flexing in self-restraint. Rodney fidgets, messing with the Velcro splint on his wrist. Because he’d never complained, John hadn’t known about the sprain until Carson’s exam.
“We took the jumper down,” John says, “followed the river a good five miles before the canyon got too narrow. Life signs detector was clear. They couldn’t have survived the fall, much less the rapids. We’ll try to recover the bodies.”
When Elizabeth nods, he leaves the room.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They find Ronon wedged in a crevice; Teyla, entangled in weeds and brush on a sandbar. They’ve been in the water for days and the condition of the bodies is heartbreaking, but he’d had no hope of anything better. At least the Athosians will have closure.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Elizabeth’s concerned,” Kate tells him. “She says you aren’t yourself.”
He laughs. “Then who am I?”
“People are worried about you.”
“I do my job.”
“Your demeanor since the accident is… different.”
John shrugs. “Got a lot on my mind. I’m adjusting.”
Kate watches him. “Have you thought about who you’ll select for your team?”
He shrugs again; it’s not idle curiosity. “Still evaluating candidates.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Your email said you wanted something?” he says tightly. McKay snorts and keeps walking.
“Just wondering if you’ve picked out your new team yet.”
“Still thinking about it.”
A pause, brief. “Will I be on it?”
John stops and glares at him. “Why would you ask that?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you hardly speak to me anymore?”
“Oh, Christ…”
McKay grabs his arm. “Look, Sheppard… I’m sorry, okay? It all happened too fast! You were the only one I could reach in time.”
John shakes him off. “This is stupid. Nobody blames you.”
“Then what’s going on?”
“I don’t have time for this!”
“I’ve noticed. Everybody’s noticed! Why don’t you stop wallowing in your fortress of solitude and actually deal with things?”
Rage is something John has learned to harness. He pokes Rodney in the chest with an index finger. “You need to back off. Now.”
“Right. Giving you space has worked wonders so far.”
“Why don’t you just go play little tin science god and let me be?”
McKay’s eyes are like blue flint. “You know, it’s difficult having to mourn someone who didn’t die.” He turns, waves open the door to his lab, and says, “If you’re ever back in town? Give me a call.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He sits up in bed, the clack of sticks still ringing in his head.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It’s quiet in the jumper bay, and minimally lit for night. John makes his way without hurry, reaching out to touch each craft he passes.
When he gets to Jumper Three, he lets himself in.
He hasn’t flown Three since that day weeks ago. It hasn’t changed.
The jumper springs to life at his presence, and for an instant, that infuriates him. But he knows this is just a distraction and wills the anger away.
He sits in the pilot chair, listens to the silence… and turns to look at the empty seats behind him.