fanfiction vs canon…….

REALLY????
after a seemingly devastating car accident, a cliffhanger, and a week-long agonizing wait, you guys gave me THAT crap!?!?
no whump, no angst, no NOTHING???

DAMMIT, people!
i keep on watching NCIS coz i LOVE the characters SO much, i drive myself half-insane!
and you keep on giving me this……… abomination of a storyline!!!

AAAAAAAAAARRRGGGHHH!!!

guess this is why i love fanfictions better: IT MAKE MORE SENSE THAN THE CANON!!!

GRAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!

Advertisements

Anthony’s Promise

Little Anthony DiNozzo sat by his mother’s big four-posted bed, holding her frail hand as she dozed lightly for a nap. Even to his eight-year-old mind she looked sick and the skin around her eyes was funny-colored. His dad had said to him that his mother was very ill, but since he had a very important business meeting, he needed Anthony to be the man of the house for a while and stayed with his mother. To tell the truth, Anthony was actually bored out of his skull and he’d rather be anywhere else, but he loved his mother more than his kingdom in form of the little forest behind the estate.

“Anthony, dear…” his mother whispered hoarsely.

Tightening his hold over her hand, he scooted closer in his chair. “Yes, Mamma?”

“Have I ever told you about my home back in England?”

Anthony blinked surreptitiously over the suddenly emerging topic. “Yes, Mamma, lots of times. But, I don’t mind if you wanna tell me about it again.”

His beautiful, though sickly, mother sighed at his words. “Such a good boy, you are. All right, before that, could you pass me my drink, baby?”

“Yes, Mamma.” Anthony scrambled from his seat to the nightstand for the requested items.

But holding an almost full crystal decanter of whiskey in one hand and its matching glass in another was a bit too heavy for a boy of his age.

Growing impatient, his mother sat up abruptly and snatched the decanter off his hand. “Oh, hand me that.” She took one large gulp directly from it before continuing to berate her son, “Do you have to be so bloody slow, boy? No wonder your daddy is always mad at you.”

She used the word ‘daddy’ as if she despised it. Which she probably did, Anthony thought mystified.

Anthony solemnly went back to his seat after returning the glass to the nightstand, leaving the decanter of alcohol in his mother’s slightly shaking hands. “I’m sorry, Mamma.”

His mother dropped back into her stack of soft pillows and let loose a long breath. “You see, my dear… My father—your grandfather, that is—has this enormous mansion with lots of rooms and secret passages. Oh, I love that place sooo much. I believe you would’ve loved it there, too.”

The mention of the secret passages caused the boy to perk up. “Yeah, we can play spy, like James Bond!”

“Yes, I was happy there. Until the day I met your daddy. Father had tried to warn me, but Tony…” For a moment, her bright green eyes turned unfocused and a ghost of smile curled her thins lips as she walked down memory lane. “Tony had been such a charmer, so romantic and everything. He still is. And so I left England.”

“Why did you leave?”

Anthony’s innocent question had her snapped back into reality. She laughed mirthlessly and her free hand flopped around. “I was young and stupid. Not to mention, in love.”

Again the boy jolted as he smiled widely to share another movie. “Oh, was it like what we saw in the movies? You know, like Audrey Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart in “Sabrina”? Or was it like you and me? You always say you lo—…”

Unexpectedly, his mother jackknifed off the mattress, the hand holding the decanter waving in the air dangerously causing the liquid inside to spill on her luxurious silk sheets, and her eyes burned with impetuous rage as she shrieked at him, “Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP! Why do you always have so MANY questions? Haven’t I told you many times, your inane questions give me a headache!?”

Anthony had grown accustomed to such abrupt changes of mood from his mother, even though it still scared him a bit. Dr. O’Brien, the family physician, had said, it was one of the side effects from her medication. Although the boy still flinched every time his mother raised her voice at him, he was no longer surprised and with practiced ease, hastily offered her placating words. “I’m sorry, Mamma. I’ll be good.”

His words brought the result he wanted indeed as the rage fled instantly from his mother’s eyes. Tears started to collect in place as she dropped the decanter sloppily on the nightstand and reached her pale, skinny arms to drag Anthony to her chest.

“My dear Anthony, love, I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean to yell at you,” she started explaining between sobs, taking her son’s smaller hand and placed it above her heart. “Here, do you feel it? I have this constant ache, here in my chest. And I don’t know how to make it better.”

“Even if we went to the movies?”

He felt his mother shaking her head, a lock of her beautiful golden hair fell over her shoulder and landed right in front of his face. “No, Anthony, no amount of movies could take this one.”

Growing up with emotionally distant parents had had Anthony craved for such affection, especially from the woman he adored most. And so all faults were forgiven only with one hug and soothing words he didn’t understand. “It’s okay, Mamma. I’ll just stay with you until you feel better.”

With another sudden move from his mother, the boy found himself being shoved back into his chair while she swept the decanter back into her hand and took another big gulp from it. In his adult life later, Anthony would understand the dull expression on his mother’s face as one of defeat and hopelessness.

She ran thin fingers along his jaw with flitting touch. “You are such a little gentleman, Anthony. Women like that very much from a man. Unlike your daddy, though you look so much like him. Your daddy, he doesn’t like me anymore. Now, he likes the pretty young lady we met at store the other day. Do you remember her? Yes? Do you like her, too, Anthony?”

Anthony frowned in distaste. He remembered the woman his mother mentioned; the perfume she wore made him a bit nauseous and she kept on pinching his cheeks and talked to him like he was five. “Of course not, Mamma. You’re the prettiest and nicest lady I know, even from those in the movies.”

Once again letting herself back to the comfort of her pillows, his mother made a disgusted eye roll. “Eight years old and he’s tried to charm me already. You ARE your daddy’s boy, aren’t you, Anthony?” she sighed disappointingly.

She closed her eyes and stayed still for a few seconds, having Anthony to think that his mother had finally went back to sleep. But she opened her eyes to a sliver and turned her head towards her son icily giving another order. “Now, be a darling and go fetch my pills. The one with the blue label. You do know how to differentiate colors, right?”

For a split second Anthony balked, then whispered hesitantly, “But, Mamma… Daddy said, you’re not supposed to take the pills after you drink. Dr. O’Brien told me that, too. He said…”

“FOR GOD SAKES, ANTHONY!!!” His mother suddenly strike out, grabbing the tie of his pristine sailor outfit, and screamed at his face in another burst of fury, all the while shaking his rather small frame. Realizing belatedly her close proximity to her son, she let go of Anthony with a thinly disguised shiver of resentment. “You are such a pain in the arse, aren’t you? GET. MY BLOODY. PILLS. NOW!!!

As fast as his little legs could bring him, Anthony ran to the adjoining bathroom and returned to her side with her prescription. “Here it is, Mamma.”

He watched curiously, if not a bit awed, as her mother shook pills after pills out of the bottle onto her opened palm. “Why are you taking so many of it, Mamma? Is that okay?”

Next, he witnessed as his mother wordlessly shoved all of the pills into her mouth and chased it down with another big gulps of her drink.

Anthony saw how her mother’s eyes gradually drooped as she swayed in her bed. He reached out for the now empty decanter, gently pried it off her delicate fingers—he had to be careful or she wouldn’t be able to play the piano for him again—and put it away. With acclimated moves, he guided his mother to her back and pulled the cover to her chest.

She blinked at him languidly, murmuring as she smiled, a genuine happy smile that Anthony liked most. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine, darling. I just need a looong goodnight sleep. Away from your daddy. Away from here.”

Not comprehending the meaning beneath such words, Anthony returned her smile. All he knew was that his mother smiled at him, meaning that she was happy. “Okay, Mamma. Sleep tight, then.”

He was completely taken by surprise when his mother snagged his wrist as he turned to leave.

“Tony? You’re not going to leave me, aren’t you?” Anthony knew his mother was always sad lately, especially when his dad wasn’t around. But he’d never saw his mother as broken or heard her beg like so with her emerald eyes brimming with tears, her lips trembling, and her voice cracking. “You’ll stay, right? You promised me, Tony, you promised me to never leave me. You promised me you’ll always be by my side.”

Anthony was appalled. His mother had NEVER called him ‘Tony’. That was how she called his dad. Who was she actually calling? Comprehension dawned on him and suddenly he’d been pushed into the world of grown-ups. Smiling sadly to cover the building of sobs, Anthony retreated to his original seat, turning his hand so he was the one holding his mother’s. “I promise, Mamma. I’ll stay.”

A couple hours later, his nanny came to fetch him for dinner. She found little Anthony falling asleep in his chair, his upper body by his mother’s side, small hands still holding hers, and there were tracks of tears on his cheeks. Falling suspicious to the still form, the nanny scurried forward to check her employer and found that Anthony’s mother was already cold to the touch.

not my first fic, but my first on NCIS
written for a writing workshop assignment
wasn’t intended to be a Tony fic in the beginning
published in FanFiction.net

Lost

Title: LOST
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Character: Radek Zelenka

Genre: Gen, Angst
Summary: Radek Zelenka found a lost soul in Atlantis’ number one team
Disclaimer: not mine…
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The Infirmary was quiet at this kind of time. Well, it was the Infirmary. It was supposed to be quiet. Dr. Radek Zelenka wriggled in his bed for the umpteenth time, trying to find a more comfortable spot. During the years of his residency in Atlantis, his visits to the Infirmary as a patient had been limited to mild complaints such as cold, headaches, and indigestion. Growing up in a place where hygiene wasn’t top priority had had it perks when facing alien food and environment. Although there were twice or thrice Radek had to stay for the night due to experiments that went wrong.

Such as today. Radek surrendered into being admitted earlier this day with a second degree burn almost all over his left arm after a set of device he was tweaking at went boom and burst into a huge ball of fire. Good thing Rodney was off-world—between the blaring fire alarm and the pain in his arm, Radek really didn’t think he would’ve survived the wrath of McKay. Dr. Keller wanted him to stay just as precaution and if everything went well, he would be released first thing in the morning.

Drs. Kusanagi and Simpson had left some time ago when his tray of dinner was brought in and Dr. Cole was generous enough to give him his laptop—with a note as long as he wouldn’t over do it—only for the sake of having something to occupy his mind before sleep came.

A bustling of sound made by a group of people entered the main section of the Infirmary. The high-pitched voice was easily recognized.

“I’m SO not going back to that place. EVER! Do you realize there were flowers at every inch of that planet!? AND every spot of their houses? Those people are freaks. Who decorates every corner of their house with flowers in myriads of colors?! I’m allergic to flowers!”

“They do.”

“The Yahardans have been using the flowers for many purposes in many generations. That is why we are visiting them to seek trade. The bouquets are their symbol of gratitude towards the plants. We were lucky the chieftain found us…hilarious rather than rude.”

“You’re not allergic to flowers, Rodney. You came back here safe and sound, right?”

Must be the Colonel’s team, Radek surmised, shaking his head upon Rodney’s diatribe. Suddenly, an idea came into Radek’s already giggling mind. Secured behind curtains surrounding most of his bed’s area, Radek’s curiosity had the best out of him as he closed his notebook silently and peek through across his bed to see how Atlantis’ most notorious team interact. Haven’t they realized they were so entertaining to watch most of the times?

The four went through the usual post-mission checkup routines with their usual raucousness; Dr. Rodney McKay bitching nonstop about anything and everything, Lt. Col. John Sheppard taunting the shorter man mercilessly which would elicited a heartily guffaw from one Specialist Ronon Dex of Sateda, and Athosian’ leader Teyla Emmagen fruitlessly trying to control the boys. Radek heard how most of the new Infirmary staffs wondered why none of the older staffs had never even tried telling them to keep it down, but those who knew the Colonel and his team had known better. Not even threats of big needles from Drs. Keller and Beckett or the presence of their leader would work.

If only those newbies knew what they had been through, the notion caused Radek to shiver. He was there half of the time, though mostly as mere audience. It took him several visits to the late Dr. Heightmeyer—bless her soul—just to chase away the nightmares after watching helplessly as Colonel Sheppard was being fed repeatedly to the Wraith. And many more after. He could barely imagine the ghosts faced by those four after so many horrible things that had happened.


“Well, thank goodness, ladies and gentlemen, your results were clean,” Dr. Cole’s voice floated out of Radek’s vicinity beyond the curtains, sounding a bit too cheery if not with a hint of relief. Perhaps she wasn’t looking forward on keeping any of them without either Drs. Keller or Beckett present. “So, you’re all good to go. Just remember to get food and plenty of rest. And try to take it easy for tomorrow.”


Hopping down from the gurney he was perched on, Radek heard Rodney grumbling under his breath, “Take it easy? Are you kidding me? I’m a very busy man. I’ve left my lab and minions for two days under Zelenka’s careless eyes and God knows what he’s done with them.”

Radek squinted bemusedly at those words. Ungrateful bastard. Perhaps one day he’d show Rodney who’s the one with careless eyes.

Teyla gave the ranting scientist a gentle smile before straightening herself. “I shall take my leave, then. I believe my boys are waiting. Gentlemen.” As a finale, she gave them a graceful nod of her head.

Surprisingly, Radek managed to catch a glint of disappointment in Colonel Sheppard’s half-hearted goodbye as he watched the Athosian lady left.

Then, Sheppard turned to the others, giving Radek a view of his lean back. “So, you guys wanna grab dinner together? We could watch movies after that. I heard Lorne got some new DVDs around.”

A faint color of red crept up Rodney’s neck as he stuttered his answer, “Uh… Sorry, John… I, uh… I promised Jen to meet her in her quarters for dinner tonight, so, uh…”

“Yeah, I’m meeting Banks in the gym after dinner,” Ronon supplied quietly. Radek wondered for a while why the fierce fighter sounded guilty all the short while.

“Oh.” Oh, was that another tinge of disappointment in the Colonel’s voice?


“But, uh, I could postpone my date with Jennifer if you need some company,” eyes wide, Rodney hurriedly interjected, exchanging uneasy glances with the ex-Runner at his side.


“Yeah,” Ronon shrugged. “Banks and I can spar tomorrow.”

Radek caught how Colonel Sheppard’s shoulders vaguely sagged. John Sheppard’s nature of putting others first than himself was well-known. Radek had seen the man’s tendency of sacrificing his needs over others. So it didn’t surprise him when he heard the Colonel’s reply in an attempted dismissive tone, “Nah, I’ll just crash Lorne’s movie night, then. You guys have fun.”


“You sure?” Ronon pressed on with narrowed eyes.

Pity how sometimes those closest to you could be the blindest to see. Radek knew exactly Major Lorne and his team had departed on an off-world mission just this morning and wasn’t expected to come home any sooner than tomorrow afternoon. Radek was at the Control Room when they left. He was also sure that Colonel Sheppard knew that too, for the Colonel was the one arranging off-world mission schedule.

Another brave-acting shrug from the Air Force pilot only confirmed Radek’s thoughts. “Yeah. Just don’t to stay up late, tomorrow’s school day; debrief with Woolsey tomorrow at 0800. Now, shoo.”

Timid at first, a reassuring smile Sheppard must have given had both Rodney and Ronon scurried out of the Infirmary like teenagers. Radek shook his head. How could they not understand?

Sheppard finally turned around facing the door, eyes trailing to the directions where his teammates disappeared, all the while giving Radek full view of the Colonel at that moment. And the way the man looked gave Radek a shock.

Gone was Colonel Sheppard’s famous easy grin. Or the lazy posture he always presented himself. Or the charming confidence he usually showed. What left was a lost look; a complete blank face, devoid of all emotions. Like a child who got separated from his family in the crowd, just seconds before going into full panic mode. And from the practiced ease Sheppard had shown, Radek figured that was not his first time being left alone like that.

Sheppard shoved both hands into his pockets in defeat and sighed for the last time loudly before walking out the Infirmary quietly. All without knowing Radek was there, watching his every move.

That particular look was not unfamiliar to Radek. A childhood friend of his was an orphan. He remembered one day as they were all playing on the playground, waiting for their parents to pick them up. Radek and his orphan friend were the ones left. When Radek’s mother finally arrived and ready to take him home, Radek turned excitedly to wave his friend goodbye only to find his friend staring blankly at him. That friend of his had the exact look as the Colonel a couple of minutes ago.

Radek didn’t realize he was slightly gaping until a nurse peeped into his safe spot from between the curtains. The young woman smiled at him apologetically. “Dr. Zelenka, we’re sorry for the noise, but you should be able to rest now that the Colonel’s team’s gone.”

Which had him snapped his jaws shut so abruptly it kinda’ hurt. “No, it’s okay. I’ve just finished working.”

Expecting the opposite, the nurse slid in instead, gently extricating the notebook computer from his hands. “Dr. Cole also wants me to take this, make sure you sleep.”

Radek surrendered his notebook without complaints, his mind still too engulfed into his recent thoughts and memories. “Yes, of course.”

He didn’t even notice the nurse checking over his vitals for the last time and changed his bed’s position into more horizontal. After the young woman finished fussing over him and once again disappeared, Radek retraced the days Atlantis’ notorious team was born, when young Lieutenant Aidan Ford was still with them, through the arrival of Ronon Dex, over the string of leader changes, Atlantis traveling to Earth and back, and up to this day. He had been keeping watch with undisguised interest on how the four misfits formed a solid connection, turning strangers into family. But apparently, changes weren’t inevitable even to Colonel Sheppard’s team, making the closely-knitted bond started to loosen.

A new resolution formed in Radek’s head. Maybe he should talk to Rodney about this—or Teyla, in case McKay freaked out—before things went way too far for the team to fix. With that conclusion checked mentally, Radek buried himself under the covers and welcomed sleep to claim him.

Near midnight, Radek’s fever spiked due to a delayed infection, dumping him into a delirious stupor for almost 14 hours and causing the Infirmary staffs running around him. By the time he recovered and got kicked out from the Infirmary to return to his own quarters two days after, Radek had forgotten everything about Colonel Sheppard, although he kept having this feeling nagging at him every time he saw the team…

End of the Search

Title: END OF THE SEARCH
Characters: John Sheppard, Torren J. Emmagen
Pairing: one-sided John/Teyla
Summary: a short drabble of John’s musing
Beta: the magnificent tielan
Word Count: 579
Disclaimer: just borrowing them to have some fun
A/N: in the beginning, I intended to participate in two different challenges; sg_rarepairings 2009 Ficathon prompt #437 featuring John & Torren with a picture of a floating paper boat and sga_beya’s February Challenge Different Kinds of Love ‘Search of Love’ prompt. But, as usual, my timing sucks. My editor from the publishing gave tight deadlines on my translating and I got an extra class to handle. So I decided to put up the two prompts into one fic and here it is. Critics and comments are so very welcomed. Cheers! ^^

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

paper boat

When he accepted the one-way mission to Atlantis for the first time, John Sheppard wasn’t looking for love. Not after what happened between him and Nancy. Or after his other relationships with women. If those could even be termed as relationships, anyway. Ah, and he wasn’t about to forget the fucked-up mission from hell in Afghanistan resulting his black mark and banishment to Antarctica.

He still wasn’t looking for love when he had met Teyla Emmagen that early day in Athos. Teyla with the regal way she tipped her head to regard John for the first time. Oh, how he wished he could curse the day he met Teyla. The problem was that he couldn’t.

Not with the crackling laughter escaping her thin lips as she listened to Rodney’s usual breakfast whining about idiotic minions and a particular ungrateful Czech. Or the way her hips swayed along her slit skirt as she swirled her Bantos rods mockingly after sweeping Ronon off his feet during sparring. The twinkle John found in her dark chocolate eyes when he told a story about Earth using comical gestures. Neither was the soft smile she had as she ran her hand over her sleeping son’s head while her teammates bickered about what movie to watch next.

John Sheppard had known from the very first time he laid eyes on Teyla Emmagen, that even though he hadn’t been searching, or even hoping, for love when he stepped foot on the Pegasus Galaxy, his search for love was over.

Only to be crushed the moment she had told him that she was carrying another man’s child.

Faith was cruel, John had realized.

He had been so sure that Teyla had felt the same as he felt. He had been so sure Teyla would stay by his side. But, Teyla was Teyla. She’d never let fate control her life, let alone a man like himself. As if sensing his fears and reluctance, she’d moved on and made her own choice.

So, here he was, lying over his stomach by the small stream of water, chin propped by a fist while his other hand repetitively poked over the paper boat floating on the water. He’d built a tiny wooden dam around the boat, trapping the gentle current in it, which caused the boat to go round in an endless circle just like the way he was feeling now.

By his side was Torren John Emmagen, sleeping peacefully, using John’s gradually numbing arm as pillow. They had been playing catch before John brandished the piece of paper he accidentally found in his pocket—it looked like a letter from Woolsey or something. The soft trickle sound of the water and the quietness of their little spot in the forest had lulled the overtaxed boy into sleep. The beautiful little boy with dark hair and caramel skin. The boy that could have been his. The boy he’d pledged his life to protect along with his home from the day he was born.

Regret gnawed inside him once more. The same regret he’d been keeping for the past few years every time he saw Teyla, her son, and the man she had chosen. John shoved it away immediately.

It was too late for him. It was over. He’d found love years ago the day he met Teyla Emmagen, only to lose love the moment he finally realized that he was searching for it. And therefore he intended to search no more.

A Desperate Cling

Genre: Gen, H/C
Characters: team, Carson Beckett
Disclaimer: Stargate Atlantis is still not mine *rolling eyes*
A/N: The image of Carson holding a broken John had been haunting me for some time. Linziday’s “Vote of Confidence” gave me the final nudge to actually write it down. So, here it is. Many thanks to Len-chan, Kriadydragon (Stealth Dragon), and Linziday for the incredible beta. Luv’ ya!!!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“They are here!” A voice rang in Carson’s hearing, so gentle and yet vibrating a certain strength he had always admired.

As the familiar image of Teyla Emmagen finally entered his field of vision, he saw her freeze for a moment, shock distinctly registered on her entire demeanor. He shot the pretty lass a quizzical look before realization sunk in.

He was sitting like a lost child in the middle of one of the tunnels’ openings, where a single strand of moonlight illuminated him from a hole above his head, legs spread and eyes dilated so wide, cradling a battered and bloodied slick and very unconscious Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard in his arms. He had most of the man’s weight in his right arm, John’s head limp against his shoulder. Streaks of tear rolled off his cheeks uncontrollably while his body shivered despite the heat he was feeling at the back of his eyes.

Carson tried opening his badly cracked lips several times, but it seemed like words had refused on forming through his muddled brain. His head was pounding, dulling his other senses. All he could feel was his own hoarse unintelligible whispers and the wheezing of his lungs.

As she ran closer, dragging her own bruised body and a splinted broken left arm, Teyla released a gasp. Among his blurred vision—either from the tears or the fever—and the throbbing ripples of pain his leg was giving off, Carson knew the Athosian was talking to him. Again, his supposedly brilliant brain failed to comprehend.

Like a bloody fool, he looked down, watching perfectly mesmerized as Teyla dug slim fingers into the Colonel’s carotid artery, getting to feel any life left in the man he was clutching.

John Sheppard was beyond pale, his face deathly ashen with cracked lips slightly opened, a deep gash from the blackish lump at his left temple sending rivulets of fresh blood to his filthy and tattered black t-shirt. He had his bony knuckles curled loosely over Carson’s left sleeve, making it hard to fathom who was holding whom. But the part which disturbed Carson the most were the greenish-gold eyes, which usually met his radiating all energy and life, closed. He was also frighteningly cold. Most of all, the man he called his friend looked dead.

A pretty blonde rushed in and dropped to her knees at his side waving a thing that buzzed in her hand around him and the Colonel. He would usually recoil at such sudden moves, even when he wasn’t freaked out. Thankfully, all of his vigor had vaporized during the run.

The blonde, who he acknowledged now as Dr. Jennifer Keller, clawed at his fingers, trying to pry off his tight grip over the unresponsive Colonel. The words ‘concussions’, ‘broken and cracked ribs’, and ‘blood loss’ made it through to his head and still no recollection was forming in his foggy mind. Somehow he started feeling disgusted at himself as his fingers dug tighter around John’s lanky form.

A dark shadow passed over his head, making him cringe yet again, until it came down to crouch in front of him. A pair of sharp blue orbs met him square in the eyes, followed by string of none-too-gentle slapping to his face and an unexpected strong grasp to both of his arms, shaking his already trembling body. “Carson! Snap out of it already, will you?! CARSON!!”

The rough handling made Carson blink, finding the worried face of another good friend hovering above him. Recollection escaped from his dry lips in a soundless murmur.

At once the penetrating gaze softened. Rodney McKay made the obvious effort of giving him a reassuring smile through his split lips and purplish eyes, half proof of the torments he’d endured. “You can let go now, Carson. We’re safe. He’s safe. You’re safe.”

Once upon a time, Carson spent two torturous years alone in the unforgiving claws of Michael, waiting for rescue. This time, he fell yet again, but into the hands of men, who much to his chagrin, could act as monstrous as the Wraith. And he wasn’t alone; he’d gotten John Sheppard’s whole team to endure the brutal beatings.

It was such an irony that just this morning they headed from the city with big smiles plastered on their faces. In the middle of the leisurely stroll through the woods, with the friendly banter he was always fond of floating in the air, they were ambushed by the less than civilized people and dragged to the tunnels. They tried struggling against their captors, but the fight died almost immediately after a club landed heavily on Ronon’s head with a resounding crack, forcing instant obedience from the rest. The situation took a sharp dive when the Colonel’s radio suddenly chirped alive, requesting a response for their late check in, and successfully spooked the already skittish people. Several hours later—or so Carson felt—deep in the tunnels, while witnessing John take most of the beatings as a means of cover for his team, Carson vaguely remembered Rodney mumbling something about mad cavemen and stupid Air Force colonel.

As soon as the minute chance had risen, the always resourceful lot managed to make a break for it, only for him to be left behind thanks to his severely sprained ankle. Then, he saw the stubborn colonel by all intent fall behind with him as the rest of his team scrambled through the tunnels to where backup waited in the form of two Jumpers packed by an antsy Major Lorne, a squad of high-strung Marines, and a nervous medic team.

“Not going to leave you behind this time, doc,” were the Colonel’s words. It was during their last collapse that Carson found the knife hilt protruding from John’s body, the blade lodged completely inside between the protective plates of his TAC vest after cutting a jagged line up from below his waistband. Out of his flickering sight and the barely lit tunnels, he realized the crimson vestige following them and the pool of blood forming beneath his fallen friend.

Dazedly, Carson had used his last reserve and staggered to the unmoving figure, gathered John’s rapidly cooling body, and just sat there. His whole body was burning. He felt broken. His tears ran treacherously for he cared no more. Until Teyla found them.

The tunnel was instantly flooded by lights from the P-90s and torches as Marines fanned out around him. Carson lifted his head, his pain-filled glaze clashed against calm chocolate brown.

“Carson.” With touching gentleness, Teyla repeated Rodney’s exact words. “You can let go of John. We are safe. John is safe. You are safe.”

Yeah, he could do that. Safe meant home. And to him now, home meant Atlantis and Atlantis alone, because Scotland provided him home no more after the death of the other Carson.

His rigid muscles gradually went slack, giving Teyla and Jennifer the opportunity to peel away the Colonel from his hands. The prone military commander of Atlantis was swiftly lifted by the sturdy arms of Ronon Dex to a litter and immediately transferred to the waiting Jumper, Jennifer close at their heels. Carson never reckoned the big man was there at all.

“C’mon, Carson, stand up. We’re going home.” Using both Rodney and Teyla as leverage, Carson stood slowly. When he found out his entire body had turned into Jello, Rodney promptly caught and held him steady until the second littler came, then prodded him to lie down.

Surrounded by friends and family, Carson finally let go of his desperate cling of consciousness.

A Proposal Like So (For LJ’s lostcityfound comm WAHP Challenge)

Rating: PG
Genre: romance, JT
Main Characters:
 John Sheppard, Teyla Emmagan
Pairings: Het, John/Teyla, mentioned Rodney/Jennifer, hint of Ronon/Amelia
Warnings: None
Spoilers: Season 5’s “Enemy at the Gate”
Beta: the genius [info]asugar
Disclaimer: all of them aren’t mine. too bad
Summary: quoting from [info]asugar ‘s words, a lovely little coda to the finale episode of SGA

Author’s Note: written for the WAHP Challenge in [info]lostcityfound  comm. Prompt i chose:
John Sheppard/Teyla Emmagan – “I always cared about you. I just didn’t know how to say it”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
A quiet John Sheppard in the infirmary should be considered weird. He’d been lying awake in bed alone for an hour. He’d consumed the half cup of broth that he’d reluctantly dubbed dinner and he was now feeling totally bored. Nope, that was the understatement of the year. Since arriving to the Pegasus Galaxy, he’d faced the Wraith, Michael and his hybrids, Replicator, and many unfriendly local each day. By the time they were celebrating Atlantis’ homecoming to Earth, he was confined to one of the infirmary beds because of the common flu, albeit a bad one, in the bed he often eyed suspiciously to check if his name was emblazoned permanently above it. How ironic.

Yesterday, John had finally had a much needed day-off after their latest encounter with the Wraith. It had been such a close call, having those space vampires so dangerously close to invading Earth. By the end of the day, he had felt like death warmed over. When the soon-to-be Dr. Jennifer Keller-McKay announced her diagnosis, John had whined that he could rest in his own quarters just fine. That was until Dr. Carson Beckett had decided to pay him a visit late last night and had found him shivering beneath his covers with a raging fever, trying to hack his lungs out. Hence the embarrassing gurney ride, the pink scrubs he was sporting at the moment, and the banishment to the infirmary bed.

To tell the truth, John still wasn’t feeling up to par after a day of rest. It felt like a jackhammer was banging away at his skull, his eyes burned from the fever, his joints ached—no, correct that—his whole body ached, and his nose was running despite being pathetically clogged. Above all, John had been continuously tortured all day by fits of coughing which bubbled up seemingly every five minutes, the wet rattle jostling his already aching body. In other words, he was just plain miserable. Earlier, John had felt that he was getting stronger and had tried to shuffle all by himself to the bathroom. However, just as Carson had predicted, the feeble attempt had failed poorly when another fit of coughing had overwhelmed him. The resulting vertigo knocked him off his feet completely and sent him to the floor with a loud crash, earning him a reading of the riot act by the irate Scottish doctor. That was when he had grudgingly given up his plans of breaking out of the infirmary—at least, for the time being—and resigned himself to lying beneath the two layers of warm blankets that Carson had piled over him, heavily doped up with the doctor’s special cocktail of heavy-duty decongestant and analgesics running through his IV and an oxygen mask over his fever-flushed face.

Worse, he was now bored. Misery was supposed to love company, but he had none. Thanks to the party in full swing in the mess hall, no one was available to entertain him. He had considered radioing Ronon—the lucky bastard had gotten out of Jennifer’s clutches pretty fast once Amelia had sprung him—or Rodney to make them keep him company and then he’d realized that would be utterly unfair since the celebration that night was for them too.

A small head with unruly dark hair that almost matched his and a small hand fisting a weird stuffed animal popped out between the curtains around his bed, followed by a poor imitation of a whisper. “Jah?”

Finally, the arrival of somebody who would brighten up the rest of what was so far a gloomy day. John’s lethargic face perked up. “Hey, kiddo,” he said hoarsely before beginning another coughing fit.

The one-year-old boy was being carried by one of Carson’s minions. His tiny pudgy hand not clutching his toy was holding a bottle of formula as he attempted to squirm out of the nurse’s arms, leaning his small body as far as he could towards John. The hand clutching the stuffed animal began to wave wildly in the air as he called John’s name. “Jah! Jah!!”

“I’m sorry, Colonel. He caught a glimpse of you when we last checked on you. He’s been fussing to come over here ever since and he refused to be talked out of it,” the brunette nurse explained apologetically, letting Torren out of her embrace and onto John’s bed. With astonishing speed, Torren crawled into John’s arms in a matter of seconds. The nurse had witnessed the colonel struggling for his breath throughout the day and had thought that the man was too tired for a visit from the toddler. “It’s supposed to be his bedtime, but Teyla won’t be coming back to get him for at least another thirty minutes.”

Scooting a bit to his left to provide more space for the wildly giggling baby, John watched in amusement as Torren lay down against John’s fever-heated chest, snuggling to find a more comfortable spot and started sucking his bottle.” S’okay,” John reassured her.

“Are you sure?” The nurse hastened to help John as he tried to pull one of his blankets from under the kid and cover Torren’s legs. That accomplished, she then stood at the edge of his bed and surreptitiously peeked back out through the curtains in a guilty fashion. “Doctors Keller and Beckett wanted you to get some rest, not to babysit.”

The aforementioned baby looked blissfully content, already halfway through his bottle of formula, his eyes lids at half-mast. John had to fight back an urge to chuckle. The last time he had tried to laugh that day—thank you very much, Rodney—an unforgiving violent burst of coughing had painfully erupted. When his coughing had finally subsided, nausea hit him hard. He had vomited everything he had eaten for breakfast and lunch. Getting sick had left him entirely wrung out and he had fallen asleep almost as soon as he finished vomiting. He never even knew Rodney being kicked out and Jennifer and her staff cleaning him up and changing the dreaded pink scrubs for a clean set. That was absolutely not an experience he would like to repeat in any time soon. Or ever.

“S’kay,” John said, never lifting his eyes from the boy. When he finally lifted his head to look at the still hovering nurse, he met her adoring gaze and he could almost head an “aww…” slip from her lips. Blushing a little, John looked away and busied himself tucking the blanket more tightly around the pajama-clad child. “Jus’ tell Teyla.”

He looked back again at the smiling though still unsure brunette, who nodded. “Very well, then. Good night, Colonel.” She took a tentative step closer and brushed her finger down Torren’s soft cheek. “See you tomorrow, Torren.” She glided away softly in her rubber-soled shoes and once again John was alone in the quiet, only Atlantis’ static hum in his head for company.

John remembered that Halling had once mentioned those among the Athosians who believed that they shouldn’t be tampering with the dwelling place of the Ancestors. Kanaan appeared to be one of those people. From the beginning, Kanaan had never felt at home on Atlantis. And from what John recently had heard—not that he purposely paid attention to Atlantis’ rumor mill—Kanaan’s relationship with Teyla had grown distant since his transformation into and back from one of Michael’s hybrids. John had seen Teyla make efforts to restore their relationship but she had been unable to defeat the guilt that had burdened Kanaan. As he spent more and more time at the new Athosian settlement assisting Halling, the couple drifted apart. Almost as soon as they had reunited, they had been lovers no more.

Torren John on the other hand had the whole expedition wrapped around his tiny finger; even the fiercest Marines and the most scattered-brained scientists volunteered to babysit him whenever Teyla or Kanaan needed. But Torren had shared his mother’s connection with her teammates and his all-time favorite babysitters would always be his self-appointed uncles; Uncle Mer—the nickname courtesy of John despite Rodney’s vehement protests—Uncle Ronon, and his very favorite, Uncle John. With Kanaan gone, John had devoted himself to the baby and spent most of his spare time with Torren. No one on the base thought it odd to see the ruthless colonel giving a military strategy briefing with Torren perched on his hip or to find the two fell asleep on a sofa in the rec room with a Sesame Street video blaring on the TV.

The start of another bout of coughing tickled at John’s throat, shaking his body as he tried not to hack into his oxygen mask. The sleeping toddler didn’t even stir. His now-empty bottle tumbled from his small grasp and Torren merely snuffled a bit before settling himself closer into John’s body, his bright orange-purple stuffed animal tucked safely under his little chin.

“Sorry, buddy,” John rasped in a thin voice. He had never meant to act like Torren’s father. He could see now that he had. There were times where he thought back and began to reconsider his actions. John was never close to his father; they hadn’t even been on speaking terms for the last ten years of Patrick Sheppard’s life. The fact that Torren had in a way lost his father too was probably what had brought them closer, an unspoken bond from the shared experience.

Draping his IV-free arm over the sleeping toddler, John let himself settle more into the bed and drift asleep.

* * * * * * *

The classical music faintly echoing though the mess hall created a more elegant and relaxed atmosphere than the room normally had. People were packed into the large room, chatting, eating, or both. Five years ago the expedition had stepped though the Gate from the SGC and onto Atlantis. People had come and gone over the years. Some had stayed, many of those scarred by their experiences, some had been lost forever, some had no choice but to leave, and some had just been unable to stand the pressures of Pegasus. Tonight, the SGC and IOA had been generous enough for once to let the whole expedition take the night off and celebrate, even provided the food and refreshments, though there was still nothing heavier than beer to drink. Everybody was relaxed and happy, yet Teyla was not enjoying it. Even the excitement of exploring John’s home world had vanished.

Teyla Emmagan was famous for her patience. Her father had schooled her extensively to develop that particular trait. However, many times since she had joined John Sheppard’s team, she had felt her patience hanging by a thread and that her teammates were nothing but irresponsible, overgrown little boys. Right now, once again her patience was put to the test as she desperately tried to leave the party.

The sudden interest of the IOA and SGC in Ronon and her involvement to the expedition was delaying her from her current mission. She had promised Nurse Kirsten to pick-up Torren from the infirmary ten minutes ago. It was past his bedtime already. Torren had decidedly refused to be put down by anyone but herself or Kanaan. After Kanaan left, he preferred the Colonel to everyone other than his mother. If only her team leader was not stuck in an infirmary bed at the moment, Teyla would be more than happy to answer any such inquiries from both the IOA and SGC.

Gritting her teeth to hide her emotions, Teyla forced a smile and pretended she was listening to Mr. Coolidge, who was reciting yet again his account of watching Ronon and Teal’c’s daring rescue of the SGC during the Wraith attack, although she allowed herself to surreptitiously glanced sideways at the exit door.

An older, tall man in Air Force dress blues suddenly stood at her side. Flashing an insincerely apologetic grin at Mr. Coolidge, he nodded slightly to her. “Good evening, ma’am. May I talk to you for a minute?”

Teyla opened her mouth to refuse, already planning her escape but the silver-haired man was faster. He ushered her away to the nearest exit with a gentle hand at the small of her back. When he stopped just outside the room, she turned to him and began to speak. “General O’Neill, forgive me…”

The older man smirked and Teyla was surprised at how boyish he looked and how he now reminded her of a certain colonel. “Call me Jack. And yes, you may go. It’s obvious you’ve been antsy to escape for at least ten minutes. Got a hot date or something?”

Exhaling in relief, Teyla put a hand on Jack’s arm and smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Jack. I was supposed to collect my son from the infirmary fifteen minutes ago, but Mr. Coolidge…”

“Ah, the impressively cute kid…” Teyla had introduced her young son to the general earlier today. Jack nodded with amusement. “Well, go on, then. I’ll cover you.”

“Again, thank you, Jack.” Teyla gave the general a last grateful look before turning down the hall. She broke into a run and it took all her self-control not to make a mad dash to the infirmary. As she entered the infirmary, she expected to hear her son bawling at the top of his lungs, but the area was suspiciously quiet. Not slowing down, Teyla started to look for Nurse Kirsten and her son. She bumped into Carson instead in her haste and she almost shrieked in surprise.

“Good Lord, love.” Carson caught her shoulders, his large hands warm. “What’s the hurry?”

“I am sorry, Dr. Beckett.” Smiling apologetically, Teyla met Carson’s eyes for a moment before she looked around the infirmary, seeking for a glimpse of her son. “I am here for Torren.”

“I see.” The Scottish doctor’s shot up in amusement and he smiled back at her knowingly. “Over here.”

For the second time in the night, Teyla was ushered purposefully to an unknown destination with a gentle touch on the small of her back. Carson brought her to the most secluded part of the infirmary, to where Teyla knew John was being kept at. She looked at the doctor inquiringly. “Carson?”

When he pulled open the curtains protecting John’s bed from the view of the rest of the infirmary, Teyla had to hold in a surprised gasp and the smirk on Carson’s face turned into a fatherly smile. “Cute couple of buggers, aren’t they?”

Lying on the partly elevated bed was a sleeping John with Torren cuddled comfortably into his chest, the toddler’s head pillowed on John’s shoulder. Teyla could hear John’s wheezing under his oxygen mask. She though he sounded better tonight.

“Most restful sleep he’s had all day from what I’ve heard,” Carson’s soft burr vibrated as he whispered to Teyla, a comforting sound she had always loved about him. The doctor moved over to the colonel with his medical chart in his hand, noting his vitals. “His congestion is finally improving. A wonder, isn’t it?” He clucked when reading his temperature, jotting it down with a frown. “Though the fever’s a bit persistent.”

With one hand, Teyla gently took hold of the hand of the arm John had draped over her son. “May I stay?”

Replacing his chart, Carson exaggeratedly rolled his eyes and threw her a mocking grin. “Would you listen I said ‘no?’” Teyla did not even blink. “Right.” Carson smiled and patted the colonel’s leg before leaving her with her thoughts.

Slowly without releasing her hold on John’s hand, Teyla pulled up the closest chair and sat. Her eyes slowly drifted from John’s sweat-moistened face to Torren’s.

Teyla had been deeply saddened the day Kanaan left Atlantis for good, but the efforts her teammates made to fill his role in Torren’s life warmed her heart greatly. Somehow the pain and grief of Kanaan’s departure was pushed away, along with other painful memories she had, to the furthest corner of her mind.

Especially everything John had done. The colonel spent all of his spare time with Torren. Several times Teyla had overheard female Marines giggling about John conducting a briefing with Major Lorne while holding Torren in a sling. John was now as skilled as Teyla in changing diapers, making up a bottle of formula, or feeding her son. Torren had grown even more attached than before to the colonel.

“M’sorry,” she suddenly heard John whisper softly under his fogged mask, pulling her from her thoughts.

Teyla looked up from her son to the man holding him. “John, what are you apologizing for?”

“Fo’ acting like his dad.” John took an especially rattling deep breath and wheezed out, “Din’ mean to.”

Teyla realized that seeing John bonding with her son had undoubtedly caused some long-buried feelings to reemerge. She had been immediately smitten from the moment John had fastened the clasp of her lost necklace in that cave on Athos. His easy lopsided grin and passionate hazel eyes had continued to haunt her dreams as they flirted with each other over the next few years, until Halling had reminded her mildly about her duty to produce an heir to follow her as the leader of the Athosians and to pass on her gift to. Brokenhearted by any indications of John returning her feelings, she had turned to her childhood friend and found an comfortable enough relationship with Kanaan though not as intense to what there was between she and Atlantis’ military commander.

Shortly after Torren was conceived, Michael had came back into their lives. Heavily ridden with guilt at what he had done, Kanaan had been plagued by terrifying dreams, which caused him to awake screaming and drenched in tears almost every night. Not even Teyla’s attempt to console him or the presence of their son could calm him. On the contrary, he only found peace when he was far away from them. He started spending more and more time among those that remained of their people on the new Athosian homeworld. Until one day, he stopped coming back to Atlantis at all.

“John.” Placing her hand on his fever-heated forehead, Teyla choked back the tears that threatened to fall. “You should rest. Your fever has risen again. I shall call Dr. Beckett—”

His hot and calloused hand grabbed hers before she could stand to summon the doctor. “No.” He coughed again. “Stay.”

She sat back, but she tried to clearly shown that she did not want to continue the discussion John had initiated. John Sheppard was an emotional man, passion literally ran through every nerves of his body. Unfortunately, he was also a man who would not openly show what he was feeling. Even more so, he would not confess those feelings. Teyla had thought that talking about how he felt while he was in a state of delirium was wrong, especially knowing how John hated to be out of control. “John…”

John looked at the child resting against his side and smile lovingly at him. “He’s beautiful. Wish he’s mine.”

Teyla’s breath hitched and for a brief moment everything seemed to stop. Did he say what she thought he had just said?

“Sorry.” After another series of hacking coughs, John pinned her with his intense hazel eyes. Although she had thought he would never say these words with a clear head, the lucidity she had found in those eyes was startling. “Fo’ everything.”

Teyla grasped his hand tightly. “Please, John… You should not…”

“Always cared ‘bout ya’, ya’ ‘now? Never stopped.” John squeezed her smaller fingers as his Adam’s apple bobbed and the lines at the corners of his eyes crinkled, sure signs of how nervous he was. “Jus’ din’ know… how to say it.”

Finally, Teyla allowed her tears fall. Despite the tightening of her throat, she managed a strangled, “I know.”

“You mind me as his daddy?”

Shaking her head frantically with a goofy happy smile, Teyla simply let her fingers intertwine more completely with John’s.

Beneath the blur of his oxygen mask, Teyla could see his trademark lopsided grin as he shrugged and added lightly, “Make you my wife, too, if you want to.”

Only John Sheppard would make a marriage proposal like so. And she did not mind at all. She did not even mind the close-to-manic smile she was now giving him. “Yes, John. I would love to.”