No reason for this fic at all other than breaking the block associated with writing my much longer and more serious Atlantis fic.
Not mine just taking them out to play.
No betas, again.
Respectful feedback welcome.
My name is Jamie Sullivan. For my thirtieth birthday I traveled through the Stargate on the most exciting one way trip anyone could ever dream. Some people go from Colorado to Washington or Texas or New Hampshire. I went to the Pegasus Galaxy.
I was chosen because I have the Ancient gene. I am a tech here in the city of Atlantis working the night shift. Not much happens, teams don't go off-world, there are no vital meetings. We have had an occasional team come in hot or withcomplications or injuries but mostly the city sleeps.
Tonight I am walking down the corridor, headed to thecontrol room to relieve my counterpart. The halls are quiet and I find myself humming a random tune.
Rounding abend I see a man walking my direction. I can see he is limping, his left arm is in a sling. He is wearing the dark gray uniform of the American personnel. His hair is dark, standing out in all directions. Getting closer, I see his features are pale and tired.
As we are about to pass each other, he reaches his right arm out to the wall as if to steady himself. I turn to him, concerned.
"You okay?"
He nods, waving me to continue on. I am uncertain and hesitate. He shifts to lean his back against the wall, eyes squeezed shut.
Looking up and down the corridor, I see no one else that can help so I slip under his right arm to steady him. He is taller than me by almost a foot but he seems unable to stand fully upright anyway. I catch a glimpse of his name patch.
Memories stir, that name is familiar. "Major John Sheppard?" I ask.
He turns pain-glassed green eyes to me. "One and only." His voice is hoarse.
I remember hearing rumors. I now know why he is in this condition. He tangled with a ten thousand year old Wraith. His party returned only a few hours ago. I heard he lost some people, too.
"And you are…?"
"Jamie." I respond. I don't talk to people much. I usually don't have anything of significance to say.
His eyes smile even though the rest of him is too tired to join them. "Nice to meet you."
I smile like a goof at the attention. Mustering courage, I ask, "Do you want me to take you to the infirmary, sir?"
He shakes his head no. "Only a little dizzy. Doc just let me out. If he finds out about this, he'll keep me for a week."
I nod in full understanding. I hate hospitals, too. "I'll just help you to your quarters. It'll be our secret."
He sighs, relieved. "Thanks you," he says, eyebrows raised.
He pulls away and leads the way under his own steam. I stay close to his side should his equilibrium go wonky again. We make slow progress towards his quarters. We are silent, save the occasional hitch in his breath when his muscles spasm.
At his door, he leans his forearm against the wall, resting his head for a moment. I wait patiently. He straightens and keys the lock then limps to the bed.
I stay at the door, not comfortable going in uninvited. I watch as he sits gingerly on the foot of the bed. He seems to have forgotten about me, concentrating as hard as he was on just staying upright.
I see him muster his resolve and reach for his foot with his right hand. Jerking straight with a sharp inhale, his foot falls to the floor still booted. I can see him pressing his ribs.
Hesitantly, I step into his room, not looking at his face, uncertain of his reaction at my further intrusion. Kneeling in front of him, I untie and unlace one boot, then the other. I pull them off and set them under his bed. I look up to see him sitting with his eyes closed.
He looks so tired. I reach behind him, pulling the covers down. He smells like sweat and antiseptic. He opens his eyes, startled but lays back. "Thought you left," sliding his feet under the blankets.
I cover him. "Just helping you settle in, sir" I respond, watching as his eyes drift closed again. I listen as his breathing deepens. I see his body and face relax. I reach to brush the unruly hair from his forehead. When I am sure he is asleep, I stand to leave. We probably will never speak again but I can watch at a distance as the heroes of Atlantis are born.
I leave, keying his door to close. With a bit of spring in my step, I head towards the control room. My little side trip has made me a forty-five minutes late for shift change.