Ancient History Challenge by elementalv
Title: Waking John
Author: elementalv
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Through “Outcast”
Notes: 1,450 words (or thereabouts) of a loose interpretation of the challenge. Gen.
~*~*~
Three days after Colonel Carter and that civilian consultant John brought to the funeral have been and gone, Dave dreams about John. The setting is their eleventh birthday party - the one and only celebration they’d ever had where they’d agreed on the theme (Star Wars) without fighting - but in the dream, Dave and John are adults and watching in vague horror as their father tries to atone for the divorce by making an appearance as a clown.
“I still have nightmares about that,” John says.
“You have nightmares after you die?” Dave isn’t particularly religious, but he believes in heaven and hell, and he hates the possibility that John might not be in paradise.
“How the hell should I know?”
Dave blinks at him. “You’re dead. How the hell could you not know?”
John gives him that annoyed look - the one that always makes Dave want to smack him - and says, “I’m not dead.”
“Colonel Carter told me otherwise.”
“She may be brilliant -” Brilliant? Where the hell had that come from? He’s only spoken with the woman once, and she didn’t impress him all that much. Military types never did. “- but she doesn’t know everything,” John tells him.
“She sounded pretty damn sure when she brought me your personal effects.”
John looks disbelieving. “They already cleaned out my room? Jesus! I’ve only been gone for -”
“Six months,” Dave says, his jaw clenched. He doesn’t like this dream and doesn’t like arguing with John like this, but he doesn’t know how to get out of it.
“That long? Huh.” While John ponders the passage of time after life, Dave watches as their father terrorizes their eleven-year-old counterparts. John doesn’t cry, but Dave is half a breath from screaming like a girl before their mother intervenes and leads their father away.
“What the hell was he thinking?”
John looks over at their mother, who is quietly and effectively berating their father. “No clue. Look, you’ve gotta get hold of Colonel Carter and tell her I’m not dead.”
Dave gives in to impulse and smacks the back of John’s head and ducks out of the way of John’s attempted retribution. “I’m not calling her. She’ll think I’m nuts.”
“No she won’t.” Dave starts to object, but John overrides him. “Just tell her to talk to Jackson.”
“What? No.”
“Daniel Jackson. Tell her.” John fades out then, but not before snaking a hand around to give Dave a quick and ugly wedgie.
When Dave wakes up, he’s pissed. He’s halfway to the computer to send John a nasty e-mail before he remembers that John is dead and that the memorial service is next week.
~*~*~
Two nights later, he dreams of John again. This time, they’re twelve and staying with their mother at the house outside Waco. Dave is content with the riding lessons they’ve been getting, but John isn’t. He’s astride a chestnut mare named Daisy and giving their mother a list of reasons why it’s reasonable to allow a child his age the chance to fly.
Dave snorts. Even after all this time, he still can’t believe John got his own way. Mom had to have been have half-crazed with guilt to agree.
“Is there some reason you keep dredging up ancient history for these meetings?”
Dave looks over, unsurprised to see John standing next to him and chewing on a hay straw. “You’re dead. What else would I be thinking about?”
“There you go again with that dead thing,” John says, looking a little betrayed. Or maybe constipated. “Would you give that up and just talk to Carter?”
“No.”
“Why not?” John’s whine is just as annoying now as it was when they were growing up. Dave doesn’t understand how he managed to get promoted to captain, let alone lieutenant colonel.
“Why should I?”
“Well-” John splutters for a moment as he grasps for an answer. “Because I said so!”
“What kind of reason is that?” God. He’s managed to pick up John’s whine by osmosis after all, despite years of avoiding it.
“I’m the oldest,” John says, as if that means a damn thing.
“Only because Mom had a c-section and you were in the way.” Dave shakes his head. “I can’t believe we’re doing this again.”
“We can stop if you would just get in touch with Carter.”
“John -”
“Please.” John gives him that look, the one Dave has never been able to defend against. It’s the look John gave him when he convinced Dave to cover for him after their senior prom, and it’s the look John gave him when he convinced Dave to loan him ten grand as a down payment on his first plane.
Dave hates that look.
“This is stupid,” he says, ignoring the grin that appears on John’s face.
“It’s not stupid. Tell her to talk to Jackson. He’ll know what’s going on.”
“Jackson. Right.”
“I’m counting on you, Dave,” he says, suddenly serious. The dream does a slow dissolve, and Dave finds himself giving a quarterly report to the board wearing nothing but a pair of bright yellow boxers with nuclear symbols on them.
~*~*~
The next morning, Dave sits at his computer for a long time, rereading the e-mail he’s written but not yet sent. He’s revised it seven times, and it’s down to:
Colonel Carter:
This sounds insane, I know, but I’m dreaming of John, and he insists that he isn’t dead. He told me to tell you to talk to Daniel Jackson, that Jackson would know what it means.
I’ve been debating whether or not to send this, but I think the only way I can stop the dreams is to do what my subconscious is telling me to do.
Regards,
David Sheppard
P.S. I don’t particularly want to talk about this at the memorial service.
When he finally clicks on “Send,” he feels nothing, not even relief. It’s not until he receives Carter’s reply a day later that he feels anything at all, and he certainly doesn’t expect the sharp tension when he reads:
Dear Mr. Sheppard:
Your e-mail was informative. Thank you for sending it.
Sincerely,
Col. Samantha Carter, USAF
~*~*~
Dave doesn’t dream of John again. Instead, he forces himself to get through the days leading up to the memorial service and deals with the thousand and one pieces of paperwork a military family has to fill out when their loved one dies in a combat zone. He thinks briefly of ignoring it all but decides it’s a poor way to remember John after they managed to come to a tentative rapprochement.
Ronon is at the service, as is a woman named Teyla and her infant. From the way Ronon hovers around Teyla, he thinks they might be involved. Rodney McKay is also at the service, which surprises the hell out of Dave, because he had no idea John knew the man. Two generals make an appearance, and Dave realizes he’s going to have to rethink John’s importance to the military.
Such trivia occupies his mind right up until he stands to give the eulogy. For a moment, as he stares out over a sea of Air Force blues, he actually thinks he can go through with it. When he tries to speak, though, all that comes out is a harsh, dry sound that’s more of a rasp than a sob.
Nancy is the one who rescues him, leading him back to his seat as Colonel Carter takes his place and offers a few platitudes. He’s never heard anyone describe dying as ascending to a higher plane of existence, but he finds it to be oddly comforting.
~*~*~
Four months after the memorial service, he comes home to find a dark blue sedan with government plates sitting in the driveway. He pulls around it and drives into the garage, thinking only that he doesn’t want to deal with this anymore. He turns off the engine and sits in the driver’s seat for a long time as he comes up with a list of reasons not to talk to the military again.
John is dead and the remainder of his effects have been returned. No, he hasn’t received the death benefit yet, but it isn’t as if he needs the cash. Yes, he’s dealing with the fact that there was no body to cremate. No, he doesn’t want to talk about it. If Carter or the Air Force has anything else to say, they can say it in an e-mail.
These thoughts and others are chasing around his head, and he thinks seriously of staying there for the rest of the night until the passenger door opens and he hears, “Told you I wasn’t dead.”
Author: elementalv
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Through “Outcast”
Notes: 1,450 words (or thereabouts) of a loose interpretation of the challenge. Gen.
~*~*~
Three days after Colonel Carter and that civilian consultant John brought to the funeral have been and gone, Dave dreams about John. The setting is their eleventh birthday party - the one and only celebration they’d ever had where they’d agreed on the theme (Star Wars) without fighting - but in the dream, Dave and John are adults and watching in vague horror as their father tries to atone for the divorce by making an appearance as a clown.
“I still have nightmares about that,” John says.
“You have nightmares after you die?” Dave isn’t particularly religious, but he believes in heaven and hell, and he hates the possibility that John might not be in paradise.
“How the hell should I know?”
Dave blinks at him. “You’re dead. How the hell could you not know?”
John gives him that annoyed look - the one that always makes Dave want to smack him - and says, “I’m not dead.”
“Colonel Carter told me otherwise.”
“She may be brilliant -” Brilliant? Where the hell had that come from? He’s only spoken with the woman once, and she didn’t impress him all that much. Military types never did. “- but she doesn’t know everything,” John tells him.
“She sounded pretty damn sure when she brought me your personal effects.”
John looks disbelieving. “They already cleaned out my room? Jesus! I’ve only been gone for -”
“Six months,” Dave says, his jaw clenched. He doesn’t like this dream and doesn’t like arguing with John like this, but he doesn’t know how to get out of it.
“That long? Huh.” While John ponders the passage of time after life, Dave watches as their father terrorizes their eleven-year-old counterparts. John doesn’t cry, but Dave is half a breath from screaming like a girl before their mother intervenes and leads their father away.
“What the hell was he thinking?”
John looks over at their mother, who is quietly and effectively berating their father. “No clue. Look, you’ve gotta get hold of Colonel Carter and tell her I’m not dead.”
Dave gives in to impulse and smacks the back of John’s head and ducks out of the way of John’s attempted retribution. “I’m not calling her. She’ll think I’m nuts.”
“No she won’t.” Dave starts to object, but John overrides him. “Just tell her to talk to Jackson.”
“What? No.”
“Daniel Jackson. Tell her.” John fades out then, but not before snaking a hand around to give Dave a quick and ugly wedgie.
When Dave wakes up, he’s pissed. He’s halfway to the computer to send John a nasty e-mail before he remembers that John is dead and that the memorial service is next week.
~*~*~
Two nights later, he dreams of John again. This time, they’re twelve and staying with their mother at the house outside Waco. Dave is content with the riding lessons they’ve been getting, but John isn’t. He’s astride a chestnut mare named Daisy and giving their mother a list of reasons why it’s reasonable to allow a child his age the chance to fly.
Dave snorts. Even after all this time, he still can’t believe John got his own way. Mom had to have been have half-crazed with guilt to agree.
“Is there some reason you keep dredging up ancient history for these meetings?”
Dave looks over, unsurprised to see John standing next to him and chewing on a hay straw. “You’re dead. What else would I be thinking about?”
“There you go again with that dead thing,” John says, looking a little betrayed. Or maybe constipated. “Would you give that up and just talk to Carter?”
“No.”
“Why not?” John’s whine is just as annoying now as it was when they were growing up. Dave doesn’t understand how he managed to get promoted to captain, let alone lieutenant colonel.
“Why should I?”
“Well-” John splutters for a moment as he grasps for an answer. “Because I said so!”
“What kind of reason is that?” God. He’s managed to pick up John’s whine by osmosis after all, despite years of avoiding it.
“I’m the oldest,” John says, as if that means a damn thing.
“Only because Mom had a c-section and you were in the way.” Dave shakes his head. “I can’t believe we’re doing this again.”
“We can stop if you would just get in touch with Carter.”
“John -”
“Please.” John gives him that look, the one Dave has never been able to defend against. It’s the look John gave him when he convinced Dave to cover for him after their senior prom, and it’s the look John gave him when he convinced Dave to loan him ten grand as a down payment on his first plane.
Dave hates that look.
“This is stupid,” he says, ignoring the grin that appears on John’s face.
“It’s not stupid. Tell her to talk to Jackson. He’ll know what’s going on.”
“Jackson. Right.”
“I’m counting on you, Dave,” he says, suddenly serious. The dream does a slow dissolve, and Dave finds himself giving a quarterly report to the board wearing nothing but a pair of bright yellow boxers with nuclear symbols on them.
~*~*~
The next morning, Dave sits at his computer for a long time, rereading the e-mail he’s written but not yet sent. He’s revised it seven times, and it’s down to:
Colonel Carter:
This sounds insane, I know, but I’m dreaming of John, and he insists that he isn’t dead. He told me to tell you to talk to Daniel Jackson, that Jackson would know what it means.
I’ve been debating whether or not to send this, but I think the only way I can stop the dreams is to do what my subconscious is telling me to do.
Regards,
David Sheppard
P.S. I don’t particularly want to talk about this at the memorial service.
When he finally clicks on “Send,” he feels nothing, not even relief. It’s not until he receives Carter’s reply a day later that he feels anything at all, and he certainly doesn’t expect the sharp tension when he reads:
Dear Mr. Sheppard:
Your e-mail was informative. Thank you for sending it.
Sincerely,
Col. Samantha Carter, USAF
~*~*~
Dave doesn’t dream of John again. Instead, he forces himself to get through the days leading up to the memorial service and deals with the thousand and one pieces of paperwork a military family has to fill out when their loved one dies in a combat zone. He thinks briefly of ignoring it all but decides it’s a poor way to remember John after they managed to come to a tentative rapprochement.
Ronon is at the service, as is a woman named Teyla and her infant. From the way Ronon hovers around Teyla, he thinks they might be involved. Rodney McKay is also at the service, which surprises the hell out of Dave, because he had no idea John knew the man. Two generals make an appearance, and Dave realizes he’s going to have to rethink John’s importance to the military.
Such trivia occupies his mind right up until he stands to give the eulogy. For a moment, as he stares out over a sea of Air Force blues, he actually thinks he can go through with it. When he tries to speak, though, all that comes out is a harsh, dry sound that’s more of a rasp than a sob.
Nancy is the one who rescues him, leading him back to his seat as Colonel Carter takes his place and offers a few platitudes. He’s never heard anyone describe dying as ascending to a higher plane of existence, but he finds it to be oddly comforting.
~*~*~
Four months after the memorial service, he comes home to find a dark blue sedan with government plates sitting in the driveway. He pulls around it and drives into the garage, thinking only that he doesn’t want to deal with this anymore. He turns off the engine and sits in the driver’s seat for a long time as he comes up with a list of reasons not to talk to the military again.
John is dead and the remainder of his effects have been returned. No, he hasn’t received the death benefit yet, but it isn’t as if he needs the cash. Yes, he’s dealing with the fact that there was no body to cremate. No, he doesn’t want to talk about it. If Carter or the Air Force has anything else to say, they can say it in an e-mail.
These thoughts and others are chasing around his head, and he thinks seriously of staying there for the rest of the night until the passenger door opens and he hears, “Told you I wasn’t dead.”