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sga_flashficTitle:Sometimes
Rating: PG
Characters: John
Challenges: Villians
Word Count: 515
Spoilers: none.
Author’s Note: My first foray into SGA fic. Hope it isn’t too horrible. The companion piece, set a few years after this one, is up at my journal, here.
Summary: He woke up, sometimes, convinced that the Wraith had followed him back.
He woke up, sometimes, convinced that the Wraith had followed him back. He could practically feel their hands on his chest, sucking his life out slowly, savoring it much like he enjoyed a chocolate shake, shaking the cup to get that last little bit out. He would sit up in bed, shivering, feeling his body to make sure it hadn’t sporadically aged during his dreams. He had it down to a science--he’d slowly feel his body, checking for new wrinkles and pains that hadn’t been there the previous evening, starting with his neck. John never found any, but he still needed to look.
Afterwards, he would climb from his bed and walk to the library. Sometimes, a midnight snack helped him go back to sleep. He was still adjusting to having access to foods like chocolate and coffee whenever he wanted. He rationed himself because it reminded him of home: wandering the ancient hallways, trying to figure out a way to override the door panal on Rodney’s apartment, because he always had the good stuff hidden behind a couple of books on the third shelf. That was where he kept his chocolate now, on his bookshelf, behind a couple of books, third shelf. He thought it was a fitting memorial.
He’d take his chocolate and go into the den, flick on the TV. He used to follow more sports, before Atlantis. Now, he would watch the scores scroll across the bottom of the screen and wonder when the tickers had started. Before he left for Atlantis, only the news channels had them, occasionally. Now it seemed they were always running, constantly reminding people that there was strife and battles and deaths while an announcer talked about the latest in the Britney gossip. They were distracting, but avoidable. People preferred their news in small bites, followed by lengthy meals of gossip and suspicion.
He didn’t really check the scores, but he pretended to, often times thinking of old games that he had memorized. They were steady, a calming influence on a life that was constantly in motion. He’d gotten in the habit of replaying them on Atlantis, and his body couldn’t shake them now that he was back on Earth. The individual cells of his body remembered the bone-aching terror of the Wraith; they remembered being locked up, terrified, and calmed by the thought of a Hail Mary pass. No matter what the Wraith did to him, the pass would always be caught. It was a life-lesson, he sometimes thought.
Then he’d turn the TV off and walk slowly back into his bedroom. He’d climb into bed and turn onto his left side, trying to sleep. He’d let his thoughts drift to other subjects, trying to forget the Wraith, forget Atlantis. It wouldn’t work, but eventually his eyes would close and he’d be asleep. In the morning, he would pretend it had never happened, and go into work.
He felt older those mornings, more world-weary. There would be a new grey hair somewhere on his head, and a new wrinkle somewhere on his body. The Wraith hadn’t followed him back to Earth, but sometimes, he still thought they won.
Rating: PG
Characters: John
Challenges: Villians
Word Count: 515
Spoilers: none.
Author’s Note: My first foray into SGA fic. Hope it isn’t too horrible. The companion piece, set a few years after this one, is up at my journal, here.
Summary: He woke up, sometimes, convinced that the Wraith had followed him back.
He woke up, sometimes, convinced that the Wraith had followed him back. He could practically feel their hands on his chest, sucking his life out slowly, savoring it much like he enjoyed a chocolate shake, shaking the cup to get that last little bit out. He would sit up in bed, shivering, feeling his body to make sure it hadn’t sporadically aged during his dreams. He had it down to a science--he’d slowly feel his body, checking for new wrinkles and pains that hadn’t been there the previous evening, starting with his neck. John never found any, but he still needed to look.
Afterwards, he would climb from his bed and walk to the library. Sometimes, a midnight snack helped him go back to sleep. He was still adjusting to having access to foods like chocolate and coffee whenever he wanted. He rationed himself because it reminded him of home: wandering the ancient hallways, trying to figure out a way to override the door panal on Rodney’s apartment, because he always had the good stuff hidden behind a couple of books on the third shelf. That was where he kept his chocolate now, on his bookshelf, behind a couple of books, third shelf. He thought it was a fitting memorial.
He’d take his chocolate and go into the den, flick on the TV. He used to follow more sports, before Atlantis. Now, he would watch the scores scroll across the bottom of the screen and wonder when the tickers had started. Before he left for Atlantis, only the news channels had them, occasionally. Now it seemed they were always running, constantly reminding people that there was strife and battles and deaths while an announcer talked about the latest in the Britney gossip. They were distracting, but avoidable. People preferred their news in small bites, followed by lengthy meals of gossip and suspicion.
He didn’t really check the scores, but he pretended to, often times thinking of old games that he had memorized. They were steady, a calming influence on a life that was constantly in motion. He’d gotten in the habit of replaying them on Atlantis, and his body couldn’t shake them now that he was back on Earth. The individual cells of his body remembered the bone-aching terror of the Wraith; they remembered being locked up, terrified, and calmed by the thought of a Hail Mary pass. No matter what the Wraith did to him, the pass would always be caught. It was a life-lesson, he sometimes thought.
Then he’d turn the TV off and walk slowly back into his bedroom. He’d climb into bed and turn onto his left side, trying to sleep. He’d let his thoughts drift to other subjects, trying to forget the Wraith, forget Atlantis. It wouldn’t work, but eventually his eyes would close and he’d be asleep. In the morning, he would pretend it had never happened, and go into work.
He felt older those mornings, more world-weary. There would be a new grey hair somewhere on his head, and a new wrinkle somewhere on his body. The Wraith hadn’t followed him back to Earth, but sometimes, he still thought they won.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-18 05:58 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-18 06:12 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-18 05:59 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-18 06:12 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-18 05:59 am (UTC)I love the idea of him hiding the chocolate - It just seems fitting.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-18 06:13 am (UTC)Thanks for commenting. = ]
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-18 06:06 am (UTC)Keep writing SGA!
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-18 06:14 am (UTC)I'll try to keep writing SGA, but I haven't watched much past season 1 episode 8. Maybe one day I'll have time to catch up.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-18 08:34 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-19 07:43 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-18 06:21 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-19 07:42 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-18 02:40 pm (UTC)My only complaint could be it was too short! Wonderful.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-03-19 07:43 pm (UTC)