Icarus by Rhiannon
Aug. 8th, 2006 10:47 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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sga_flashficIcarus
Author: Rhiannon -![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rhian_morwenna
Challenge: Secret Superpower
Characters: John Sheppard, Atlantis, mention of others
Summary: He closed his eyes, trying to drive the images from the past few days from his mind
Word Count: 1,086
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Rating: PG
Spoilers/Timeline: Vague spoilers for “No Man’s Land” (3.01) and “Misbegotten” (3.02)
Disclaimer: Do I really have to say I don’t own SGA? Didn’t think so.
Author's Notes: Many thanks tolvs2read for a speedy beta-read. I couldn’t do it without you. *hug* All mistakes are mine.
John stood on a small platform that was the highest place on Atlantis, at the top of the central spire overlooking the roof of the Jumper bay. He closed his eyes, trying to drive the images from the past few days from his mind, concentrating on the sound of waves so very far below, the smell of the ocean carried by the winds as they buffeted him on his high perch. He snapped his eyes open again as the sight of the dead security detail flooded his mind’s eye, discarded husks of their former selves. If it wasn’t for the dog tags he wouldn’t have been able to identify any of them.
He could no longer take the visions, the memories that flooded him, so he had climbed up to this, his secret spot. A place where he could watch the sun’s reflection on the ripples below and allow the present to dull his senses, help him to forget everything.
Glancing over Atlantis he observed the repair crews working on the Daedalus. The sight of the ship brought back memories of slowly suffocating so he tore his eyes away. He tried to focus on something else, anything else, but the images of Lorne nearly dying on more than one occasion kept haunting him.
Today the platform wasn’t enough to erase the memories. There was too much blood on his hands for him to simply forget. Those he cared about had faced death too many times because of him, their faces staring at him accusingly when he closed his eyes. He idly wondered at what point he had turned into a mass-murderer. Somehow the distinction between defending his people and murder had passed right by him and he didn’t even notice until it was too late.
John sighed as he bent down to unlace his boots and kicked them off, placing them next to the hatch that led to this tiny balcony. His socks, vest, and shirt soon joined them. The winds caressed his bare skin, pushing him towards the rim of the platform. He let the winds guide him, taking the few steps across the sun-warmed metal until he was at the edge.
He stared down at Atlantis again, lulled by how beautiful she looked, how serene. Usually looking out over his city calmed him, helped him focus on what was truly important as Atlantis gently sang to him. She reminded him of those who lived, not those who had died. Today Atlantis was sullen and quiet, as if she was punishing him for what he had done and wanted him to remember the dead. She sulked because he ordered the death of two-hundred potential human lives. She was truly angry with him because Carson was in his infirmary, sedated into oblivion once the realization of his two days of captivity caught up with his rational mind. Atlantis kept her song to herself, or maybe she only sang to the others who could hear her. He hoped she was still singing to Carson, Lorne, Rodney, and the others. They desperately needed her comfort after their ordeal.
John took one more step forward until his toes curled over the edge of the platform. He took a deep breath as currents of air continued to wind around him, urging him to do what he wanted. It was why he liked this place so much. There was no railing to confine him. He was free, no bars holding him back. Nothing but the elements surrounded him, a siren’s song. He had waited too long to do this.
A small smile played at his lips as he raised his face to the sun, bathed by its warmth, and spread his arms. Slowly, he leaned forward, the wind giving a small push against his back as he allowed gravity to take over. Air rushed past his body as he fell, seconds stretching into infinity.
John stretched long unused muscles in his back and suddenly he was no longer falling. He soared, his wings catching an updraft, spiraling higher and higher. He lost himself in the sensation of pure flight, not the dulled sensation of piloting some aircraft. He stretched his broad wings to their fullest span and lazily circled over Atlantis and the people he had sworn to protect. He gazed at the horizon as he played in the unseen currents of wind, endless possibilities before him.
He finally felt the burden his heart carried drift away, as if he left it behind when he took flight. He knew what he had to do and he had to stop wallowing in guilt if he was going to be able to take care of everyone. He left behind his remorse, a force more powerful than gravity, as he soared ever upwards, the rhythm of his wings as steady as his own heart. He stopped climbing only when he felt the air thin, his lungs screaming for more oxygen, ice crystals forming in his hair and on his wings.
He glided back to his platform, gently settling on his feet as he flapped his wings one last time. He wrapped them around himself, their color the same dark brown and bronze as his hair, absorbing the heat from the sun and as they drove away the last of the chill. He heard Atlantis singing again, no longer ignoring him. He looked at his wings wrapped around himself and absently ran his hands through the feathers which refused to smooth no matter how much he groomed them. He closed his eyes, letting Atlantis’s song and the warmth of his wings surround him, caressing his very soul, soothing him. He was grateful that Atlantis never stayed angry with him for very long.
Slowly, John folded his wings up behind him, feeling them disappear into his back once again. He pulled his clothing back on, lacing up his boots, preparing himself for the next hour, the next day, the next week. Atlantis gave her encouragement, her support. This place would be here the next time he needed to clear his mind, to regain his focus. Part of him knew one day the burden of command and the decisions he made would be too much for him to bear and he would soar too high trying to shed his guilt or else it would drag him too close to the waves. When that day came he would accept his fate with open arms and wings.
Until then he had people to protect, a city to watch over.
Author: Rhiannon -
rhian_morwennaChallenge: Secret Superpower
Characters: John Sheppard, Atlantis, mention of others
Summary: He closed his eyes, trying to drive the images from the past few days from his mind
Word Count: 1,086
Genre: Character Study, Gen
Rating: PG
Spoilers/Timeline: Vague spoilers for “No Man’s Land” (3.01) and “Misbegotten” (3.02)
Disclaimer: Do I really have to say I don’t own SGA? Didn’t think so.
Author's Notes: Many thanks to
lvs2read for a speedy beta-read. I couldn’t do it without you. *hug* All mistakes are mine.John stood on a small platform that was the highest place on Atlantis, at the top of the central spire overlooking the roof of the Jumper bay. He closed his eyes, trying to drive the images from the past few days from his mind, concentrating on the sound of waves so very far below, the smell of the ocean carried by the winds as they buffeted him on his high perch. He snapped his eyes open again as the sight of the dead security detail flooded his mind’s eye, discarded husks of their former selves. If it wasn’t for the dog tags he wouldn’t have been able to identify any of them.
He could no longer take the visions, the memories that flooded him, so he had climbed up to this, his secret spot. A place where he could watch the sun’s reflection on the ripples below and allow the present to dull his senses, help him to forget everything.
Glancing over Atlantis he observed the repair crews working on the Daedalus. The sight of the ship brought back memories of slowly suffocating so he tore his eyes away. He tried to focus on something else, anything else, but the images of Lorne nearly dying on more than one occasion kept haunting him.
Today the platform wasn’t enough to erase the memories. There was too much blood on his hands for him to simply forget. Those he cared about had faced death too many times because of him, their faces staring at him accusingly when he closed his eyes. He idly wondered at what point he had turned into a mass-murderer. Somehow the distinction between defending his people and murder had passed right by him and he didn’t even notice until it was too late.
John sighed as he bent down to unlace his boots and kicked them off, placing them next to the hatch that led to this tiny balcony. His socks, vest, and shirt soon joined them. The winds caressed his bare skin, pushing him towards the rim of the platform. He let the winds guide him, taking the few steps across the sun-warmed metal until he was at the edge.
He stared down at Atlantis again, lulled by how beautiful she looked, how serene. Usually looking out over his city calmed him, helped him focus on what was truly important as Atlantis gently sang to him. She reminded him of those who lived, not those who had died. Today Atlantis was sullen and quiet, as if she was punishing him for what he had done and wanted him to remember the dead. She sulked because he ordered the death of two-hundred potential human lives. She was truly angry with him because Carson was in his infirmary, sedated into oblivion once the realization of his two days of captivity caught up with his rational mind. Atlantis kept her song to herself, or maybe she only sang to the others who could hear her. He hoped she was still singing to Carson, Lorne, Rodney, and the others. They desperately needed her comfort after their ordeal.
John took one more step forward until his toes curled over the edge of the platform. He took a deep breath as currents of air continued to wind around him, urging him to do what he wanted. It was why he liked this place so much. There was no railing to confine him. He was free, no bars holding him back. Nothing but the elements surrounded him, a siren’s song. He had waited too long to do this.
A small smile played at his lips as he raised his face to the sun, bathed by its warmth, and spread his arms. Slowly, he leaned forward, the wind giving a small push against his back as he allowed gravity to take over. Air rushed past his body as he fell, seconds stretching into infinity.
John stretched long unused muscles in his back and suddenly he was no longer falling. He soared, his wings catching an updraft, spiraling higher and higher. He lost himself in the sensation of pure flight, not the dulled sensation of piloting some aircraft. He stretched his broad wings to their fullest span and lazily circled over Atlantis and the people he had sworn to protect. He gazed at the horizon as he played in the unseen currents of wind, endless possibilities before him.
He finally felt the burden his heart carried drift away, as if he left it behind when he took flight. He knew what he had to do and he had to stop wallowing in guilt if he was going to be able to take care of everyone. He left behind his remorse, a force more powerful than gravity, as he soared ever upwards, the rhythm of his wings as steady as his own heart. He stopped climbing only when he felt the air thin, his lungs screaming for more oxygen, ice crystals forming in his hair and on his wings.
He glided back to his platform, gently settling on his feet as he flapped his wings one last time. He wrapped them around himself, their color the same dark brown and bronze as his hair, absorbing the heat from the sun and as they drove away the last of the chill. He heard Atlantis singing again, no longer ignoring him. He looked at his wings wrapped around himself and absently ran his hands through the feathers which refused to smooth no matter how much he groomed them. He closed his eyes, letting Atlantis’s song and the warmth of his wings surround him, caressing his very soul, soothing him. He was grateful that Atlantis never stayed angry with him for very long.
Slowly, John folded his wings up behind him, feeling them disappear into his back once again. He pulled his clothing back on, lacing up his boots, preparing himself for the next hour, the next day, the next week. Atlantis gave her encouragement, her support. This place would be here the next time he needed to clear his mind, to regain his focus. Part of him knew one day the burden of command and the decisions he made would be too much for him to bear and he would soar too high trying to shed his guilt or else it would drag him too close to the waves. When that day came he would accept his fate with open arms and wings.
Until then he had people to protect, a city to watch over.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-21 12:36 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-01-10 09:55 pm (UTC)After pondering the challenge for a little while, I just had to do John with wings, and since I rarely do anything light and fluffy, Icarus popped in my head. (Yes, I'm a Classics geek, so look up Icarus in Wikipedia) ;)
The pieces I write for