Messengers by Liondragon (Earthside)
Jun. 21st, 2006 09:54 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
shusu.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
sga_flashfic(Speaking for myself, I'd love to see your favorite cities and highways and special spots, even if you don't live there anymore. FYI, here's a map of military bases in the continental U.S.; worldwide; complete list with inactive bases.)
Gen. All mistakes in geography and the military are my own.
PG for language only; references to death. 1800 words.
Note: My icon is Teyla's view, looking up.
*edit*: Added a line that was somehow dropped from the lj draft. Sorry about that.
Stargate Atlantis does not belong to me. Unauthorized duplication and distribution prohibited.
Messengers
by Liondragon
Though John lucked out when Reed claimed Ohio and the tristate area, his brief stint at Scott Air Force Base got him Des Moines through Memphis. He took Teyla along, dutifully buying her bags of spicy pork rinds and settling for buckets of Wal-Mart cotton candy. It didn't cut her displeasure at having nothing to do. The most he allowed was her keeping him awake on the long night drive to Chillicothe. They had to work fast, and even if she heard them crying from the car, he wouldn't let her come along.
They stopped long enough in Kansas City to get his dress blues dry-cleaned and to call Rodney, who was now on his own in Minnesota. (Normally a bad idea, but Rodney maintained it was painless enough if he talked fast.) Despite getting a ticket for parking in a snow lane, he'd still finish before they would. Several expedition members had come out of the U of M or the surrounding smaller colleges. Rodney could check them off all at once. In the meantime he was pleased they had finally accepted Krispy Kremes this far north, though it couldn't match Tim Horton's. John spited him by slurping a Steak 'n Shake freeze over the phone.
John passed it to Teyla when they got on the highway. Around Sedalia, Rodney admitted to her that he missed his sidearm. Teyla prudently ended the call soon after.
It was fast driving if you could guess where the speed-traps were. Florence, Versailles, California, a truck stop in Kingdom City, then up to Mexico and New London. John took Teyla's picture with her face through a painted Tom and Becky wall, white-washed. They got caught in traffic coming into St. Louis, and it was another half-hour before John recognized any landmarks.
Teyla was getting bored, so John took their rental down I-70 till she gasped and pointed. "It's an arch?" he said when she asked, and she actually rolled her eyes.
They found parking on Laclede's Landing and John marveled at everything that was the same and wasn't, the bridges that were used or reused, all aging. The trains now ran all the way to Scott from here. They walked down to the Mississippi River, muddy as ever and running low. "Rodney is upstream, is he not?" Teyla said. She'd been reading the map.
"Yup." With a quirk on his lips, John edged down the cobblestones and spit into the water.
Quite solemnly, Teyla did the same.
Hands in his pockets, he followed her up the stairs and to the base of the Arch. People had scratched their names into the stainless steel, but it hardly spoiled its curving sheen. No one was out here; it was far from summer.
It was funny how the light was pulled around and into the grey-blue sky. "Gateway to the West," John murmured. He felt homesick.
"We have Major Lorne's family," Teyla said, eyes drawn up and up.
"Let's see the sights first," John said. "We can make good time to Arkansas."
They drove past the light-strung trees -- slow, since Teyla had liked them in KC. John was startled by the hulking pit in the middle of downtown, and the hulking brick stadium next to it. Teyla frowned at the vagrants under the highway but didn't say anything. They had the top closed; it was getting cold.
They found the brewery still lit up and magnificently Christmas.
"Is this a temple?" Teyla squinted at the eagles and gargoyles and carousing bears.
"Yeah, it's where they make beer," John said, and he managed not to grin.
They drove around, picked up some giant pretzels, and got a hotel room overlooking the river. John paid with cash, a smile, and his USAF identification. Teyla raided the mini-fridge for a beer, which they split while checking in with Elizabeth, Dr. Bryce, and Sergeant Yamato.
Rodney called again before dawn. "What did Chuck want, again?"
John pinched the bridge of his nose. "Katamari Damacy. And We Love Katamari. Can't your big brain remember stuff like this?"
"That place is huge! It's like... home except you have to walk everywhere."
They sniped, both of them pre-coffee, until Teyla came out of the bathroom and raised a brow. "Listen, it's my turn in the can, I gotta-- hey Rodney, that second one's a title, not a statement of fact!" John shook his head at the dial tone.
Teyla's voice was soft as he passed her. "We will leave shortly?"
"Beat traffic." It was easier to do it in the morning, when people were still muzzy with sleep. John was wide awake before he hit the shower. Lorne's would be tough.
His mom lived in a leafy suburb that used to be surrounded by farmland. John knew from what Lorne had told him that his sister might be home too; he steeled himself before knocking on the stormdoor.
John took his hat off and held it at chest level, where his nameplate should be. His mouth was dry, every time. "Are you Mrs. Robert Lorne?"
The woman had Lorne's big brown eyes. John was glad he'd only had coffee; the look on her face made his stomach roll. "Cassie!" she called over her shoulder. "Cassie, come here!" Her hands were shaking.
John kept his hands relaxed, kept his voice even like it was a rough landing and it was just him and the stick. "Ma'am, are you Mrs. Robert Lorne?"
"What is it, Mom..."
"Yes," the woman said abruptly. John wasn't looking at her, and she wasn't looking at him. He said the next line, and the next, the name and the numbers, and the stormdoor was creaking from the vibration of her hands.
He was invited inside for breakfast, which sounded so much like Major Lorne that he nearly caved. He wanted to sit and tell them all about him. How proud he was of him. Instead he handed them a datadisk. "Because of the nature of his assignment," he started.
"Yes, he told us," said his sister. John fixed her face in his mind.
"That disk contains his final message and instructions to claim death benefits," said John. "We ask that you not talk to the press until the activities connected to his mission are brought to a close."
"When will that be?" said the sister. The mother was calmer now. John remembered that too.
"Give it a month, ma'am." John let his expression loosen. "It's lucky we got authorization for a personal notification." Their faces twisted; they nodded to each other, probably having been at the receiving end of Stargate Command's vague MIA messages. A few years ago those had gone out by e-mail.
"I guess we'll destroy this one too," the mother said, the datadisk pinched between her fingers.
"Yes, ma'am. We appreciate your cooperation," and something sincere must have leaked out because she smiled. Lorne's smile.
John waited till they closed the door before tapping the top of the threshold. In the car, Teyla handed him a water bottle. "Show it to me," he whispered, gripping the steering wheel. Silently she retrieved a folder from her satchel and opened it to Lorne's consent form, his quick, blocky handwriting next to each line item.
Signed.
Back on Atlantis, it had seemed like such a big fuck-you to the SGC. Now it just felt like desperation, taking advantage of the fact that these families didn't even expect the chaplain, the lawyer, the medic. It was better than an e-mail, still. It was the least they could do. John exhaled and started the engine. He got on the highway, then on the old bridges over the old river, and Teyla didn't say anything when he drove northeast instead of south.
Teyla noticed the totem before he did: an ancient marker on a relatively new overpass. Before long a towering, grassy mound came into view -- an artificial hill where there should be forest. A hundred feet high with a flat top, steps from the two-lane highway. It wasn't even close to the size of some of the places in Antarctica, and nowhere near the long-toothed mountains of Afghanistan. It wouldn't have been impressive if John didn't know it was man-made.
They swung into the visitor's center. John named a time limit, and Teyla nodded, surveying the landscape around them. "There are other mounds over there, Colonel," she said.
John squinted. "Yeah, I guess there are." If not for the visitor center, it could have been a settlement in Pegasus. A culled settlement. Rodney ought to be whipping out his scanner; Ronon should have been walking point, suspicious of the high ground in flat country.
They watched the film with a couple of tourists; John didn't pay attention, his hand over his eyes, Teyla's intermittent touch on his shoulder. She was bemused when the screen rose up and showed a fake walk-through village. John chuckled as they wandered around, reading some of the more ironic captions aloud. "Maybe they could levitate the dirt to build all those mounds."
"Perhaps," said Teyla wryly. She had beads and trinkets in her satchel which were really low-tech Athosian devices.
They were more subdued when they studied the possible causes of the ancient people's disappearance. "The anthropologists know this by heart," John murmured.
"It is not the same case," Teyla said mildly, "but it is useful to us." She glanced up at him as though to include him in that 'us.'
They went out and trudged up the giant mound, John's fingers twitching for his tac vest and P-90, the rest of him grateful that he didn't have to carry them. The wind lifted Teyla's hair as she pointed to the west, where the downtown skyline was visible. If not for the Arch dominating it all, it could have been Des Moines or Kansas City or Damascus, all alike from afar.
He thought of Major Lorne, who would never see this sight again. He raised his camera and took a picture.
"Your world has the luxury of history," said Teyla quietly.
"It does," said John wonderingly, standing atop a neolithic mound, light-years away from home.
"When you leave this place," she said, touching his elbow, "and come to stay with us, you will be giving us that gift."
John didn't think about it; he took her shoulders and they touched brows, Pegasus-style. "So. We make good time to Memphis, and maybe we can see Graceland before Caldwell picks us up for our last ride."
"Another temple?" Teyla said knowingly.
"Yeah. You think Lorne will like an electric guitar? I mean, if he can't play, he can learn."
Teyla took the camera and snapped a picture of the east side too. "I am sure he will like whatever you bring back, John."
Gen. All mistakes in geography and the military are my own.
PG for language only; references to death. 1800 words.
Note: My icon is Teyla's view, looking up.
*edit*: Added a line that was somehow dropped from the lj draft. Sorry about that.
Stargate Atlantis does not belong to me. Unauthorized duplication and distribution prohibited.
Messengers
by Liondragon
Though John lucked out when Reed claimed Ohio and the tristate area, his brief stint at Scott Air Force Base got him Des Moines through Memphis. He took Teyla along, dutifully buying her bags of spicy pork rinds and settling for buckets of Wal-Mart cotton candy. It didn't cut her displeasure at having nothing to do. The most he allowed was her keeping him awake on the long night drive to Chillicothe. They had to work fast, and even if she heard them crying from the car, he wouldn't let her come along.
They stopped long enough in Kansas City to get his dress blues dry-cleaned and to call Rodney, who was now on his own in Minnesota. (Normally a bad idea, but Rodney maintained it was painless enough if he talked fast.) Despite getting a ticket for parking in a snow lane, he'd still finish before they would. Several expedition members had come out of the U of M or the surrounding smaller colleges. Rodney could check them off all at once. In the meantime he was pleased they had finally accepted Krispy Kremes this far north, though it couldn't match Tim Horton's. John spited him by slurping a Steak 'n Shake freeze over the phone.
John passed it to Teyla when they got on the highway. Around Sedalia, Rodney admitted to her that he missed his sidearm. Teyla prudently ended the call soon after.
It was fast driving if you could guess where the speed-traps were. Florence, Versailles, California, a truck stop in Kingdom City, then up to Mexico and New London. John took Teyla's picture with her face through a painted Tom and Becky wall, white-washed. They got caught in traffic coming into St. Louis, and it was another half-hour before John recognized any landmarks.
Teyla was getting bored, so John took their rental down I-70 till she gasped and pointed. "It's an arch?" he said when she asked, and she actually rolled her eyes.
They found parking on Laclede's Landing and John marveled at everything that was the same and wasn't, the bridges that were used or reused, all aging. The trains now ran all the way to Scott from here. They walked down to the Mississippi River, muddy as ever and running low. "Rodney is upstream, is he not?" Teyla said. She'd been reading the map.
"Yup." With a quirk on his lips, John edged down the cobblestones and spit into the water.
Quite solemnly, Teyla did the same.
Hands in his pockets, he followed her up the stairs and to the base of the Arch. People had scratched their names into the stainless steel, but it hardly spoiled its curving sheen. No one was out here; it was far from summer.
It was funny how the light was pulled around and into the grey-blue sky. "Gateway to the West," John murmured. He felt homesick.
"We have Major Lorne's family," Teyla said, eyes drawn up and up.
"Let's see the sights first," John said. "We can make good time to Arkansas."
They drove past the light-strung trees -- slow, since Teyla had liked them in KC. John was startled by the hulking pit in the middle of downtown, and the hulking brick stadium next to it. Teyla frowned at the vagrants under the highway but didn't say anything. They had the top closed; it was getting cold.
They found the brewery still lit up and magnificently Christmas.
"Is this a temple?" Teyla squinted at the eagles and gargoyles and carousing bears.
"Yeah, it's where they make beer," John said, and he managed not to grin.
They drove around, picked up some giant pretzels, and got a hotel room overlooking the river. John paid with cash, a smile, and his USAF identification. Teyla raided the mini-fridge for a beer, which they split while checking in with Elizabeth, Dr. Bryce, and Sergeant Yamato.
Rodney called again before dawn. "What did Chuck want, again?"
John pinched the bridge of his nose. "Katamari Damacy. And We Love Katamari. Can't your big brain remember stuff like this?"
"That place is huge! It's like... home except you have to walk everywhere."
They sniped, both of them pre-coffee, until Teyla came out of the bathroom and raised a brow. "Listen, it's my turn in the can, I gotta-- hey Rodney, that second one's a title, not a statement of fact!" John shook his head at the dial tone.
Teyla's voice was soft as he passed her. "We will leave shortly?"
"Beat traffic." It was easier to do it in the morning, when people were still muzzy with sleep. John was wide awake before he hit the shower. Lorne's would be tough.
His mom lived in a leafy suburb that used to be surrounded by farmland. John knew from what Lorne had told him that his sister might be home too; he steeled himself before knocking on the stormdoor.
John took his hat off and held it at chest level, where his nameplate should be. His mouth was dry, every time. "Are you Mrs. Robert Lorne?"
The woman had Lorne's big brown eyes. John was glad he'd only had coffee; the look on her face made his stomach roll. "Cassie!" she called over her shoulder. "Cassie, come here!" Her hands were shaking.
John kept his hands relaxed, kept his voice even like it was a rough landing and it was just him and the stick. "Ma'am, are you Mrs. Robert Lorne?"
"What is it, Mom..."
"Yes," the woman said abruptly. John wasn't looking at her, and she wasn't looking at him. He said the next line, and the next, the name and the numbers, and the stormdoor was creaking from the vibration of her hands.
He was invited inside for breakfast, which sounded so much like Major Lorne that he nearly caved. He wanted to sit and tell them all about him. How proud he was of him. Instead he handed them a datadisk. "Because of the nature of his assignment," he started.
"Yes, he told us," said his sister. John fixed her face in his mind.
"That disk contains his final message and instructions to claim death benefits," said John. "We ask that you not talk to the press until the activities connected to his mission are brought to a close."
"When will that be?" said the sister. The mother was calmer now. John remembered that too.
"Give it a month, ma'am." John let his expression loosen. "It's lucky we got authorization for a personal notification." Their faces twisted; they nodded to each other, probably having been at the receiving end of Stargate Command's vague MIA messages. A few years ago those had gone out by e-mail.
"I guess we'll destroy this one too," the mother said, the datadisk pinched between her fingers.
"Yes, ma'am. We appreciate your cooperation," and something sincere must have leaked out because she smiled. Lorne's smile.
John waited till they closed the door before tapping the top of the threshold. In the car, Teyla handed him a water bottle. "Show it to me," he whispered, gripping the steering wheel. Silently she retrieved a folder from her satchel and opened it to Lorne's consent form, his quick, blocky handwriting next to each line item.
Signed.
Back on Atlantis, it had seemed like such a big fuck-you to the SGC. Now it just felt like desperation, taking advantage of the fact that these families didn't even expect the chaplain, the lawyer, the medic. It was better than an e-mail, still. It was the least they could do. John exhaled and started the engine. He got on the highway, then on the old bridges over the old river, and Teyla didn't say anything when he drove northeast instead of south.
Teyla noticed the totem before he did: an ancient marker on a relatively new overpass. Before long a towering, grassy mound came into view -- an artificial hill where there should be forest. A hundred feet high with a flat top, steps from the two-lane highway. It wasn't even close to the size of some of the places in Antarctica, and nowhere near the long-toothed mountains of Afghanistan. It wouldn't have been impressive if John didn't know it was man-made.
They swung into the visitor's center. John named a time limit, and Teyla nodded, surveying the landscape around them. "There are other mounds over there, Colonel," she said.
John squinted. "Yeah, I guess there are." If not for the visitor center, it could have been a settlement in Pegasus. A culled settlement. Rodney ought to be whipping out his scanner; Ronon should have been walking point, suspicious of the high ground in flat country.
They watched the film with a couple of tourists; John didn't pay attention, his hand over his eyes, Teyla's intermittent touch on his shoulder. She was bemused when the screen rose up and showed a fake walk-through village. John chuckled as they wandered around, reading some of the more ironic captions aloud. "Maybe they could levitate the dirt to build all those mounds."
"Perhaps," said Teyla wryly. She had beads and trinkets in her satchel which were really low-tech Athosian devices.
They were more subdued when they studied the possible causes of the ancient people's disappearance. "The anthropologists know this by heart," John murmured.
"It is not the same case," Teyla said mildly, "but it is useful to us." She glanced up at him as though to include him in that 'us.'
They went out and trudged up the giant mound, John's fingers twitching for his tac vest and P-90, the rest of him grateful that he didn't have to carry them. The wind lifted Teyla's hair as she pointed to the west, where the downtown skyline was visible. If not for the Arch dominating it all, it could have been Des Moines or Kansas City or Damascus, all alike from afar.
He thought of Major Lorne, who would never see this sight again. He raised his camera and took a picture.
"Your world has the luxury of history," said Teyla quietly.
"It does," said John wonderingly, standing atop a neolithic mound, light-years away from home.
"When you leave this place," she said, touching his elbow, "and come to stay with us, you will be giving us that gift."
John didn't think about it; he took her shoulders and they touched brows, Pegasus-style. "So. We make good time to Memphis, and maybe we can see Graceland before Caldwell picks us up for our last ride."
"Another temple?" Teyla said knowingly.
"Yeah. You think Lorne will like an electric guitar? I mean, if he can't play, he can learn."
Teyla took the camera and snapped a picture of the east side too. "I am sure he will like whatever you bring back, John."
(no subject)
Date: 2006-06-23 12:36 am (UTC)my two favorite parts:
one:
"Your world has the luxury of history," said Teyla quietly.
"It does," said John wonderingly, standing atop a neolithic mound, light-years away from home.
"When you leave this place," she said, touching his elbow, "and come to stay with us, you will be giving us that gift."
I liked both Teyla's appreciation of Earth's history, and John, standing on Earth, being "light-years away from home". woah. spooky-cool...
two:
He was invited inside for breakfast, which sounded so much like Major Lorne that he nearly caved. He wanted to sit and tell them all about him. How proud he was of him. Instead he handed them a datadisk.
wow. what a punch in the gut. because at this point I thought Lorne was dead, but even afterwards, when you did the big reveal, it was still painful, because that poor family....
good job.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-06-23 01:04 am (UTC)Yeah, I totally want to drive over to Cahokia now and stand on top and say that line. It was so *Teyla*, so her point of view as a nomadic people that used to have a history, and yet full of that serenity of hers.
I think John really likes his 2ICs. He was probably the guy who got all the crap, and now part of his job is delegating the crap -- and geez, Lorne is just so cool. I loved their exchange in Coup d'Etat.
A colony would be such a huge move. Even if it's not to this extent, you can't... have dual citizenship, y'know? They'd all have to be serious about it, and I doubt Elizabeth would force anyone. It's a poignant turning point, whether for a future colony, or for that first leap in Rising.