A very short ficlet written for Tipper's poetry challenge. Inspired by a verse of the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam.
Happy John Sheppard was a supremely happy man.
He might be leant up against the bulkhead of a crashed jumper.
He might have a lump the size of an egg on the side of his head.
He might have a concussion.
He might have broken ribs.
He might have a severely twisted knee that was swelling with every minute.
He might be listening to the almost unintelligible ranting of an irate scientist who was feverishly disembowelling the circuitry of a crashed jumper frantically trying to bypass the blown crystals.
He might be stranded on a desert world.
But he was, nevertheless, happy.
He, who had no family on Earth had found one here, in another galaxy. He glanced at McKay and smiled; he also had supreme confidence that the Canadian would either fix the jumper or that some other form of help would come soon.
He reached out for the water bottle next to him. Drinking deeply he scanned the vast expanse of the wilderness and saw the distant figures of Ronan and Teyla making their way back to the Gate to fetch help.
He chewed slowly on a power bar and settled himself comfortably against the sun-warmed bulkhead.
Okay, things weren't going to plan but for now he felt he could allow himself to enjoy the moment.
And here is the verse itself:
Here with a Loaf of Bread beneath the Bough,
A Flask of Wine, a Book of Verse - and Thou
Beside me singing in the Wilderness-
And Wilderness is Paradise enow.