Five times John’s men were proud to have him as a CO [SGA fic]
Title: Five times John’s men were proud to have him as a CO
Characters: John Sheppard, Lorne, OCs
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1400
Summary: The men have learned to trust Sheppard, to follow him with their eyes full of awe.
Note: Written for prompt 73.02 at sg1_five_things
i.
Lance Corporal Sam Jacobson is a third-generation Marine. He has service ribbons from Iraq and Afghanistan and a Silver Star for something he doesn’t like to talk about, but all his experience hasn’t prepared him for Atlantis. Stranded in a dead city with water pressing in on all sides and every officer on the wrong side of the Stargate is not a good place to be.
At the end of the day, the city floats peacefully on the surface of a blue, blue ocean, but Colonel Sumner is reduced to memory and a pair of dog tags clutched tightly in Major Sheppard’s fist, and there are ancient life-sucking vampires in the spaces between stars, waiting. Sam can’t really say that things are looking up.
Some of the Marines blame Sheppard, don’t like the way he’s stepping in to take Sumner’s position. Sam sees the brittle weariness in Sheppard’s eyes and doesn’t know what he feels.
About fifteen crises and one Genii invasion later, the men have learned to trust Sheppard, to follow him with their eyes full of awe.
Sam is the same. He would do anything Sheppard asks of him, fight for him, die for him. But the first time he really feels that swell of pride that Sheppard is his CO isn’t when Sheppard proves he can use a sniper rifle without laser sighting or when he blows up a 10,000 year old Wraith. It’s when Sheppard and his team stumble back through the Stargate with twenty five refugees of a culling. Sheppard is lowering a wounded man gently to the gateroom floor, and the blood on his hands is from trying to save someone.
ii.
Sergeant Lisa Emmett loves Atlantis. She loves the wide open ocean and the Ancient database and going off-world. She also loves the hand-to-hand practice sessions Major Sheppard insists on.
Lisa enjoys the looks on the Marines' faces when she wipes the mat with them. Six months on Atlantis and they still seem honestly surprised that a woman can knock them to the ground, can beat them at anything. She’s waiting for the day when she’ll see respect in their eyes instead of snapping anger or hot embarrassment.
Lisa arrives at the training rooms early for every session. Usually the rooms are empty and she can take a moment to stretch in peace. Today, however, there are sounds coming from the far arena; the hollow thunk produced by the impact of wood on wood. Curious, she creeps silently to the doorway.
Major Sheppard and Teyla Emmagan are facing off, a pair of wooden sticks in each of their hands. As Lisa watches, Sheppard brushes a trail of sweat from his forehead with a wrist and Teyla takes the opening to lunge forward. Sheppard brings the stick in his left hand around just in time to catch the blow from Teyla’s first swing, but her other arm comes around quick as a whip and smacks a stripe across his shoulder. Lisa winces in sympathy. Sheppard twists and strikes out, but Teyla dances around him gracefully and cuts his legs out from under him. He lands on his back with a quiet oof and Lisa watches for the spark of anger in his eyes.
Sheppard laughs, his eyes lit bright with pleasure. “Wait, show me that move again,” he says, taking Teyla’s hand to haul himself up. Teyla’s lips quirk in a smile and Sheppard quickly edits, “Slower.” Teyla laughs too and mimes the move on an invisible opponent.
Lisa has never loved Atlantis more than right this moment, watching Sheppard get beat up by Teyla with a pair of sticks and laugh.
iii.
Lieutenant Leon Kappel is one of three German soldiers stationed on Atlantis. Atlantis may be an international venture, but the military is overwhelmingly American.
It doesn’t usually bother him. The Marines are well-trained and they perform their duties admirably. And it’s not that they’re hostile, or even unfriendly. It’s just that they have this sense of community that Leon is outside of. Sometimes they look at the flag patch on his left arm, and when they see black, red and gold instead of red, white and blue, something about them feels far away, dismissive.
Leon shrugs it off. Kein Problem.
Still, when his gateteam is assigned to a mission with Colonel Sheppard’s team, it feels like a chance to prove himself. He’s gearing up in the ready-room when Sheppard strolls in, nodding in greeting.
Sheppard has never given Leon the kind of accidental indifference the Marines have. In fact, the colonel has always seemed to watch him more, a touch of worry in his eyes. Leon isn’t sure what to think of that, whether to be defensive or pleased. It depends on motivations that he has not been able to determine.
“You doing okay, Lieutenant?” Sheppard asks casually, and he might mean it any number of ways. Ready for the mission? Liking your posting? Fitting in?
“Yes, sir,” Leon replies, because he is mostly doing okay with all of those things.
Sheppard looks at him carefully, and as he shrugs on his BDU jacket, he very deliberately removes his American flag patch before his Atlantis one.
Leon feels something inside himself warm and salutes, can’t not. Sheppard gives him a crooked smile and salutes back.
iv.
Warrant Officer Christopher Adams works in the control room. It’s a lot of data analysis and hurry-up-and-wait passing the time between Stargate activations, but Chris likes it.
He’s less thrilled with his supervisor, Dr. Waters, who is convinced that the military should stick to shooting guns and leave the ‘real science’ to people who spent ten years in grad school. So Chris is a little viciously pleased when something sparks at Waters’ station and he lets out a curse.
Colonel Sheppard is just coming out of Dr. Weir’s office, and he makes a detour over to see what’s wrong.
“I don’t think I can really explain it to you, colonel,” Waters says condescendingly.
“Naw, that’s okay. I think I get it,” Sheppard replies, gazing at the data on the laptop screen. Waters looks at him doubtfully. “You fried the system because you used a recursive algorithm instead of a deterministic one.” Sheppard gives a smile full of teeth. “You should probably rewire the circuit board and write a new algorithm, shouldn’t you?” he asks, all false charm.
“Y-yes,” Waters squeaks, looking horrified and embarrassed and impressed all at once. Chris beams at Sheppard.
Sheppard shrugs, hidden amusement in his eyes, and strolls away with a loose, easy gait. Chris knows Waters will glare at him and give him night shifts for a month, but he can’t hold in the laugh.
v.
Major Evan Lorne has a secret hidey-hole in Atlantis that he likes to escape to when the endless drag of paperwork gets to be too much or Parrish gets it into his head that they should go back to the planet of the human-size Venus Flytraps for “-just one more specimen, Major, please.” It’s a balcony high up in one of the empty buildings lining the West Pier. He likes to watch the sun set, to smear red and gold paint across a clean white canvas and know he’ll never be able to capture the beauty.
Today, the ordinary calm stillness of his sanctuary is cut by the hum of a puddlejumper, but Lorne doesn’t mind. The ship skims gently along the surface of the ocean like a skipping stone before making several smooth flips and shooting off into the horizon.
Lorne can tell it’s Sheppard flying. He’s flown with a lot of pilots, but he can say without reserve that Sheppard is one of the very best. Sheppard flies like the jumper is a piece of himself, like poetry through motion.
Lorne doesn’t think the Marines really understand that. To them a pilot is a pilot is a pilot, although they’d probably be able to see the difference if they ever saw Sheppard flying side by side with an ordinary Air Force pilot. Lorne understands the difference instinctively.
“That was some nice flying today, sir,” Lorne says admiringly over dinner, and Sheppard smiles, bright and solid with joy. Lorne feels it like the press of Sheppard’s hand against his shoulder.
Comments are loved.
Characters: John Sheppard, Lorne, OCs
Rating: PG
Word Count: ~1400
Summary: The men have learned to trust Sheppard, to follow him with their eyes full of awe.
Note: Written for prompt 73.02 at sg1_five_things
i.
Lance Corporal Sam Jacobson is a third-generation Marine. He has service ribbons from Iraq and Afghanistan and a Silver Star for something he doesn’t like to talk about, but all his experience hasn’t prepared him for Atlantis. Stranded in a dead city with water pressing in on all sides and every officer on the wrong side of the Stargate is not a good place to be.
At the end of the day, the city floats peacefully on the surface of a blue, blue ocean, but Colonel Sumner is reduced to memory and a pair of dog tags clutched tightly in Major Sheppard’s fist, and there are ancient life-sucking vampires in the spaces between stars, waiting. Sam can’t really say that things are looking up.
Some of the Marines blame Sheppard, don’t like the way he’s stepping in to take Sumner’s position. Sam sees the brittle weariness in Sheppard’s eyes and doesn’t know what he feels.
About fifteen crises and one Genii invasion later, the men have learned to trust Sheppard, to follow him with their eyes full of awe.
Sam is the same. He would do anything Sheppard asks of him, fight for him, die for him. But the first time he really feels that swell of pride that Sheppard is his CO isn’t when Sheppard proves he can use a sniper rifle without laser sighting or when he blows up a 10,000 year old Wraith. It’s when Sheppard and his team stumble back through the Stargate with twenty five refugees of a culling. Sheppard is lowering a wounded man gently to the gateroom floor, and the blood on his hands is from trying to save someone.
ii.
Sergeant Lisa Emmett loves Atlantis. She loves the wide open ocean and the Ancient database and going off-world. She also loves the hand-to-hand practice sessions Major Sheppard insists on.
Lisa enjoys the looks on the Marines' faces when she wipes the mat with them. Six months on Atlantis and they still seem honestly surprised that a woman can knock them to the ground, can beat them at anything. She’s waiting for the day when she’ll see respect in their eyes instead of snapping anger or hot embarrassment.
Lisa arrives at the training rooms early for every session. Usually the rooms are empty and she can take a moment to stretch in peace. Today, however, there are sounds coming from the far arena; the hollow thunk produced by the impact of wood on wood. Curious, she creeps silently to the doorway.
Major Sheppard and Teyla Emmagan are facing off, a pair of wooden sticks in each of their hands. As Lisa watches, Sheppard brushes a trail of sweat from his forehead with a wrist and Teyla takes the opening to lunge forward. Sheppard brings the stick in his left hand around just in time to catch the blow from Teyla’s first swing, but her other arm comes around quick as a whip and smacks a stripe across his shoulder. Lisa winces in sympathy. Sheppard twists and strikes out, but Teyla dances around him gracefully and cuts his legs out from under him. He lands on his back with a quiet oof and Lisa watches for the spark of anger in his eyes.
Sheppard laughs, his eyes lit bright with pleasure. “Wait, show me that move again,” he says, taking Teyla’s hand to haul himself up. Teyla’s lips quirk in a smile and Sheppard quickly edits, “Slower.” Teyla laughs too and mimes the move on an invisible opponent.
Lisa has never loved Atlantis more than right this moment, watching Sheppard get beat up by Teyla with a pair of sticks and laugh.
iii.
Lieutenant Leon Kappel is one of three German soldiers stationed on Atlantis. Atlantis may be an international venture, but the military is overwhelmingly American.
It doesn’t usually bother him. The Marines are well-trained and they perform their duties admirably. And it’s not that they’re hostile, or even unfriendly. It’s just that they have this sense of community that Leon is outside of. Sometimes they look at the flag patch on his left arm, and when they see black, red and gold instead of red, white and blue, something about them feels far away, dismissive.
Leon shrugs it off. Kein Problem.
Still, when his gateteam is assigned to a mission with Colonel Sheppard’s team, it feels like a chance to prove himself. He’s gearing up in the ready-room when Sheppard strolls in, nodding in greeting.
Sheppard has never given Leon the kind of accidental indifference the Marines have. In fact, the colonel has always seemed to watch him more, a touch of worry in his eyes. Leon isn’t sure what to think of that, whether to be defensive or pleased. It depends on motivations that he has not been able to determine.
“You doing okay, Lieutenant?” Sheppard asks casually, and he might mean it any number of ways. Ready for the mission? Liking your posting? Fitting in?
“Yes, sir,” Leon replies, because he is mostly doing okay with all of those things.
Sheppard looks at him carefully, and as he shrugs on his BDU jacket, he very deliberately removes his American flag patch before his Atlantis one.
Leon feels something inside himself warm and salutes, can’t not. Sheppard gives him a crooked smile and salutes back.
iv.
Warrant Officer Christopher Adams works in the control room. It’s a lot of data analysis and hurry-up-and-wait passing the time between Stargate activations, but Chris likes it.
He’s less thrilled with his supervisor, Dr. Waters, who is convinced that the military should stick to shooting guns and leave the ‘real science’ to people who spent ten years in grad school. So Chris is a little viciously pleased when something sparks at Waters’ station and he lets out a curse.
Colonel Sheppard is just coming out of Dr. Weir’s office, and he makes a detour over to see what’s wrong.
“I don’t think I can really explain it to you, colonel,” Waters says condescendingly.
“Naw, that’s okay. I think I get it,” Sheppard replies, gazing at the data on the laptop screen. Waters looks at him doubtfully. “You fried the system because you used a recursive algorithm instead of a deterministic one.” Sheppard gives a smile full of teeth. “You should probably rewire the circuit board and write a new algorithm, shouldn’t you?” he asks, all false charm.
“Y-yes,” Waters squeaks, looking horrified and embarrassed and impressed all at once. Chris beams at Sheppard.
Sheppard shrugs, hidden amusement in his eyes, and strolls away with a loose, easy gait. Chris knows Waters will glare at him and give him night shifts for a month, but he can’t hold in the laugh.
v.
Major Evan Lorne has a secret hidey-hole in Atlantis that he likes to escape to when the endless drag of paperwork gets to be too much or Parrish gets it into his head that they should go back to the planet of the human-size Venus Flytraps for “-just one more specimen, Major, please.” It’s a balcony high up in one of the empty buildings lining the West Pier. He likes to watch the sun set, to smear red and gold paint across a clean white canvas and know he’ll never be able to capture the beauty.
Today, the ordinary calm stillness of his sanctuary is cut by the hum of a puddlejumper, but Lorne doesn’t mind. The ship skims gently along the surface of the ocean like a skipping stone before making several smooth flips and shooting off into the horizon.
Lorne can tell it’s Sheppard flying. He’s flown with a lot of pilots, but he can say without reserve that Sheppard is one of the very best. Sheppard flies like the jumper is a piece of himself, like poetry through motion.
Lorne doesn’t think the Marines really understand that. To them a pilot is a pilot is a pilot, although they’d probably be able to see the difference if they ever saw Sheppard flying side by side with an ordinary Air Force pilot. Lorne understands the difference instinctively.
“That was some nice flying today, sir,” Lorne says admiringly over dinner, and Sheppard smiles, bright and solid with joy. Lorne feels it like the press of Sheppard’s hand against his shoulder.
Comments are loved.