Title: Point of View: Conversion
By Atri/ Chiara Crawford
RATING: G
WARNINGS: None
CATEGORY: Introspective
PAIRING: Sparky
ARCHIVES: , Command Dynamics
SPOILERS: Season Two: Conversion
SUMMARY: Caldwell's contemplation after Conversion.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Stargate: Atlantis.
I have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author(s).
Steven leaned back, sipping his warm coffee thoughtfully. It was a strange feeling, being here on Atlantis. The city was both different and just like he had imagined it. Silver spires reached far into the sky, as if trying to grasp the stars. The endless ocean surrounded the lost city with its life-giving waters. Like a jewel, Atlantis floated in that sea of brilliant blue, its lights shining brighter than even the sun.
It was beauty in its most simple form, made real by the minds and souls of ages' past. But even though its magnificence captured him like so many others before him who had set foot onto this mythical place, he never dared forget that everything had a price.
And that price was a high one, both in blood and souls.
A cool wind swept over the balcony he was on, carrying the salty air from the ocean with it. It was a fresh scent and helped him clear his thoughts. He wasn't sure what prompted him to step outside. Though the weather was good, the wind was strong and even cold. Perhaps something inside him demanded to simply be here at the fresh air. He loved the Daedalus above all else, saw the crew as something like a family, but, occasionally, even he needed a break where he had nature around him and not the familiar walls that separated him from the deadliness of space.
Now that the mess of Sheppard's almost transformation into some Wraith hybrid was over with, he had the time to relax a bit. The Daedalus was scheduled to depart in five days and the crew was happy to have some time off. With nothing else to do, he had wandered the city, before coming here.
Warming himself up with some more sips of coffee, his thoughts wandered towards the Atlantis Expedition.
It was certainly a challenge dealing with them, though he could understand their actions and views to a point. He himself was a veteran of the SGC and knew that being on other planets was different than anything one could experience on Earth. It was the Wild West of the 21st century. Earth was so small in comparison to everything else. Of course, there were dangers on his homeworld, but, in the end, the planet was too interconnected, too populated to feel the thrill of being out here, on the edges of the universe, where nobody could help you but yourself. Not many people would think of him as an adventurer, but he believed that nobody could work at the SGC and not be one, no matter how deeply buried that part was.
But stepping through the Stargate into another galaxy with no way back? That was, even for him, a bit too much. He respected the Expedition for their choice to do this; nevertheless, as experienced commander, he could not overlook the errors in the running of the city.
There had been a good reason why Colonel Sumner had been chosen to be the military commander. Sumner had been a veteran of the SGC and he knew that discipline and organization were needed, when confronted with such an endeavor.
Steven didn't doubt that Sumner's death was inevitable. By god, he couldn't fault Sheppard for that. But the casual style of leading the new military commander of Atlantis showed went against every single instinct in Steven's body. It was part of the reason why he thought that a more experienced commander would have been better for the city.
But they don't want that, do they?
And, indeed, it seemed like nobody in the Expedition wanted a change in leadership. It was his second visit in Atlantis now and, though everybody was courteous to him, he still felt their slight animosity. Apparently, the year cut off from Earth had inflicted them with what he liked to call the `O'Neill Syndrome`. It was something he had seen in SG-1 and it was also something he saw now in Atlantis.
Whatever faults Weir and Sheppard had were perhaps not ignored by the population of the city, but they were certainly accepted by most. Added to that was a deep seated loyalty of the kind he seldom saw. It was the unshakeable trust that men like Hammond or O'Neill were graced with, the I-will-follow-you-into-hell mentality.
He had only recognized it for what it was in the last few days, when Sheppard had started to mutate into that monstrosity. His men had gone willingly into unimaginable danger, well knowing that they could and would die. It had been in that moment that he accepted that there would not be a change in command here on Atlantis. No matter how qualified the new commander would have been, the city's people would never have accepted them as fully and unquestioningly as they did Sheppard and Weir.
Weir and Sheppard. The pair was an …unusual one. Though their level of professionalism was commendable, Steven was still not sure that there was not more between the two leaders. He couldn't clearly pinpoint why exactly he got the feeling that the relationship between the military commander and expedition leader was more than it appeared to be, but somehow he was completely sure that their bond reached deeper than the burdens of simply two working colleagues.
On the balcony below him, the doors swished open. The light footsteps of Dr. Elizabeth Weir were accompanied by the slightly heavier ones of Colonel John Sheppard. Even though Sheppard's ordeal had taken place not so long ago, Dr. Beckett had already granted him the freedom to leave the infirmary.
Given the rumors of Weir's and Sheppard's preference of the balconies as meeting places, it was perhaps not surprising to see them here.
Both leaders leaned on the railing, staring out at Lantea in companionable silence. There was no tension in the air, nothing that would indicate any disagreements. But Steven knew that there had been some. He also remembered the handprint on Dr. Weir's throat well.
It seemed he was not the only one, when Sheppard hesitantly reached out towards the doctor's throat, caressing it softly. A tender gesture, so unlike what he had inflicted upon her only days ago, and deeply personal.
If there had been any doubt in Steven's mind before, there was no now.
"I did that." Though the Colonel's voice was barely a whisper, Steven still heard it through the overwhelming silence that seemed to encompass the pair.
"It's alright." She answered with equal tenderness, her hand grasping his fingers and entwining them with hers.
"I could have killed you."
"No. You would never have."
And with those words of conviction, she smiled slightly before leaning forward and resting her head on his chest, over his heart. She was completely relaxed, not showing even an ounce of the fear that would have been natural in such a situation given the circumstances.
Silently, Steven rose and quietly left the balcony from where he had seen the intimate scene, undiscovered. No matter what anyone thought of him, he was not heartless, nor was he a voyeur. The picture of the two leaders in a very telling embrace was too private for anybody to witness.
Strolling through Atlantis, Steven decided to let things rest.
Whatever the relationship between Sheppard and Weir was – and he still was convinced that the two being involved would not be an entirely good thing for the Expedition –, he would not interfere and bring the IOA down on them, as long as it didn't jeopardize their duties.
Getting into a cold war with both leaders of Atlantis on their turf would be suicide. He had read the reports about the Storm and Sheppard's cold efficiency in dispatching his enemies and he had also seen the frosty look in the good doctor's eyes, when she had warned him against choosing her as an opponent.
No, he decided firmly, he didn't want to be an enemy of theirs.
Atlantis, for all her beauty, was still the kingdom, where they reigned supreme. And he didn't belong there.