Of Ferris Wheels and Each Other

by The Puppeteer

The thought musings of Colonel Sheppard on a not so lonely night...No real spoilers..come and enjoy.

Title: Of Ferris Wheels and Each Other

Rating: PG—maybe a kiss or two

Beta: Admiral Q O

Spoilers: Up to the end of Season 2, this is in collaboration with W. B. Yeats' 'Dream of a Blessed Spirit' and 'I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair' by Pablo Neruda (get all his works!) . I figure John is of Irish decent, who likes Russian literature (I can not begrudge him; I am a die hard fan of Tolstoy myself. War and Peace are definitely more than a classic).

Summary: My point of view of John by understanding the inner workings of a tired man—picturing him writing his memoirs, but not with paper and pen. Now this is shippery, I write it this way at first to understand his views on Teyla, but it turns out a view on himself and those women of Atlantis...specifically Teyla.

Note: As you will notice in season 2 spoilers that I have, I will always write Teyla and John as having some kind of affair, it's debatable whether it's a deep friendship, friends with benefits, or if their out right lovers…I leave that up for interpretation. As a person, I tend to write my most emotional thoughts in the darkest of night and when I'm done spewing them out, I delete them, and hence the reason I do it on computers. It's a way of purging my self of overwhelming feelings, so both characters will do the same respectively. As I don't think John would do anything else, it would seem a sign of weakness for him. And Teyla probably doesn't know how to write or read for that matter, unless it's planet signs and drawings. It's introspective and longer than I had expected…I hope you all like it.

All the heavy days are over;

Leave the body's coloured pride

Underneath the grass and clover,

With the feet laid side by side.

One with her are mirth and duty;

Bear the gold-embroidered dress,

For she needs not her sad beauty,

To the scented oaken press.

Hers the kiss of Mother Mary,

The long hair is on her face;

Still she goes with footsteps wary

Full of earth's old timid grace.

With white feet of angels seven

Her white feet go glimmering;

And above the deep of heaven,

Flame on flame, and wing on wing.

— Dream Of A Blessed Spirit by W.B. Yeats

I crave these times of solitude and introspection. Don't misunderstand me; I am as shocked as anyone to be invited here by Elizabeth and then to actually make the decision to come. With the ultimatum I was given countered with the fact I could never go back home, I think it was very evident to everyone who had left that either they had nothing waiting for them at home, it was a direct order, or they were so excited to be here that nothing on Earth could keep them away. I leave the latter for the scientists from whom every day you can see the excitement of a new discovery, even with the threat of the Wraith looming overhead, Weir at the top of that list.

From my time on Atlantis I have felt like my mind and body have been in a state of perpetual motion. It is this action-adventure that I craved. I joined the military because I get to play with really cool toys, who wouldn't, I've flown them all from testing stealth planes to black hawks, had a chance to get some rad gadgets; gives me a chance to travel the world on the government's pay check, albeit some more unsavory than others. I've seen my share of beautiful women and beautiful scenery, as I've seen my share of severed limbs and lost friends, lovers, family on both sides of a war.

To see what I have seen on Atlantis is not much different from what I have seen on Earth, not much by a long shot. But then I would never have met the people that I have met, who have marked my soul for eternity. Was that poetic? Maybe so, Yeats would have been proud, I have a close attachment to my countrymen's work, which would seem out of character to most. But I digress, masterpieces always cloud the focus—I wonder if McKay would agree.

Atlantis though, is our topic tonight and a few other things. I've been sent on missions going to God forsaken planets with unknown anomalies, scared citizens, hostile citizens, or no citizens. Continuously, one or more people on my team or unit are in danger. The times that I see wasted as once again someone in my group perishes for mistakes that could not be helped.

Then there are the worst times of all, the ones where we underestimate our enemy and it becomes clearly evident for all our posturing and our dependency and wonder of the Atlantean technology there's also the fact that we can't control or begin to understand what's around us, or within our power.

It's that underestimation that worries me; we risk the lives of all our people, not just the few in combat, all the innocents not only on Atlantis itself but those Athosians or various citizens we have brought back from other planets to live on the mainland. That leaves a deep feeling of trepidation within me, but I am not the leader of Atlantis, I can only argue…so far, and yet when it comes time, I must defend orders that I had denied. Everything is then a liability, as a military man, I must say we've set ourselves up for a suicide mission in no uncertain terms, but in the immortal words of Thomas: 'We will not go gentle into that good night.'

Again, it's only in these quite times, after all the adrenaline died down, all the earlier anxiety that's exciting yet traumatic has taken a rest for the night that I get this time to look out my window and watch the evening sky. At first I was clearly alone for much of it. Just looking at the stars that I've come to see could be distant planets. The rolling clouds are far more apparent at night than in the day. The feeling that it brings within me…it's so calming and yet powerful at the same time. It's hard to explain…even with so much time with so many wordy people from McKay to Weir and the wisdom of Teyla, I still can't seem to express myself the way I'd like to, it maybe the soldier within.

But the feeling is unimaginable. To see the rolling sea, with creatures still unknown to us, the air is so sweet—almost like sugar cane, which is strange for me. The sea in Atlantis is very different from that of Earth, for all its similarities in appearance. The
Atlantean sea has an energy that is unimaginable, maybe it's the mystery, I haven't figured it out; but this water is an entity of its own. It grabs you and holds you close, and far from being frightened of its power, you bow down to it. You see why the people of Atlantis situated themselves here. There's something of that surrounding water that means more than we know.

I have to catch myself from waxing poetic, now and again, if that can be counted as such. Words can be difficult at times, but then at 02:00 hours…even the most taciturn of men can become the most versed lyricists. I have been meaning to muddle through several things that are running rampant in the scuttlebutt of the Atlantis Crew. You would think, a mission made up of predominantly men and mainly scientists at that, rumors wouldn't be so evident. But then they are human too, so I guess I should give'em that. I've been trying to figure out what to do to quell the rumors, or even if I should bother doing that at all. At the moment it's a safeguard the rumors that are running around now. What they see of course, I don't see.

Don't get me wrong, the women of the crew are very attractive, some more so than others, and then there are the beautiful alien women all across the planets, those whom have kissed me and those that I have denied, not to mention the many that I have not yet seen. But it has to be understood, that I'm not a player by any stretch of the imagination. I've been turned down by more Earth women than I care to mention. I think the reason so many of them seem to be enthralled by me is not really for my looks, but the fact that I'm different from the other men they know that goes for all the planetary women and also those women on Atlantis.

Most of the women on Atlantis are surrounded by absent-minded scientists. These scientists are men who know the inner workings of the Periodic Table, but can't even string two words of compliment on a successful endeavor. As Teyla once said of my CO on our second day together 'Your leader sees through me,' these men see through the women. These women are seen as one of the gang, which is not something that I think they like. So when attention is given by me, or even one of my officer's, there seems to be this fan club effect that results and rumors erupt abound.

This feeling is definitely there within mine and Weir's relationship. The one kiss we shared, was instigated again by her and not by me, I would never have been inclined to begin anything with her, freewill or inhabited by alien being. It would go against my nature as an officer in a military and a gentleman to even procure the thought of something with my CO. I am a man and recognize her as a beautiful woman, but that is where it ends and begins. I may be the head of military; I am not the head of Atlantis. Furthermore, I sincerely doubt if she were in her right mind she would have done the same.

Weir is a woman much like myself, admittedly. She is just as excited by finding new things and always out for the adventure. I will never deny her interest in the planets and our missions and also her caring of my team and unit, as well as the residents of Atlantis. But there is far from anything between us. I'm starting to wonder, if I spend a lot of time with a woman I'm always going to be labeled to her?

First and foremost she's my CO before being my friend, and before taking a step that could be found dangerous she must report to me, as I have to report to her, to go over strategies and create fail safes. To even harbor the thought that I would risk our working relationship with a love affair is ridiculous to me, and I think too much time on Atlantis without any fun for the crew is getting to them. I would never jeopardize what we have as a great working relationship, excluding my moments of contention of her authority.

Then there is my relationship with Teyla. This I can understand more than Weir. We are closely connected on all missions; she's my right-hand woman. She has not let me down yet, and I find that I completely trust her, more than I have trusted anyone else besides Ford. She has proven on more than one occasion that she can take care of herself and several other officers if need be. Teyla is already a leader of her people so being on my team has just further solidified her place within my esteem.

I fear for her though. I won't deny it; there is no point really. While Weir mainly stays on Atlantis and has found herself in dangerous situations on base, Teyla is always out on the field, and sometimes without weaponry taking on men twice her size. She may appear larger than life but she is only a little over five feet tall. Nothing compared to my self, McKay, or even Ronon for that matter. Compared to even Elizabeth she's a pixie.

And there's that damn naiveté, I strongly believe she's going to find herself in serious problems because of it. Don't get me wrong, she's strong willed, forceful and not easily dissuaded from a goal or even easily manipulated. On more than one occasion it has taken all my power to think along the lines of Weir to get her to even agree to go through with a mission. Again, as a leader she has her own viewpoints and what she'd have done. I cannot even tell you how miffed she was when Weir and Bates went ahead together to interview all her people but exclude her, all this because they believed the Athosian's were aiding the Wraith…as if!

As she's said she's worked hard to retain some level of respect in my unit, mainly because she's a woman and secondly because she's Athosian and not fully human, the added Wraith dynamic caused many a problematic night for myself, and more so for her. Sparring with her on more than a physical level is still not a pleasant experience and watching her vent is even worse; albeit the comforting part at the end of all that, is quite welcome. Anyway to get back on topic…the suspicion was a slap in the face and her later suspicion when we found she was of Wraith lineage was even more disrupting.

That still means nothing to me though. I have this silly Ancestor gene, what good has that brought me? I have to light up a few machines; that doesn't mean I know what's going on…they just light up like a bulb, so there's not much of an advantage. My body is easily taken over by spirits that were believed to be in stasis; I am easily immobilized by Wraith weaponry, while it seems Teyla is a little more resistant to it, thankfully. She has the gift of keeping us two steps ahead, not to mention she can take on a few of them in a fight without guns…so when bullets are not an option she'd kill with her bare hands if need be.

Plus her humanistic senses are far more prevalent, her compassion, her passion, her devotion, and her innocence. It is something not found in people who have experienced so much death, who have had to live through so much pain. Look at Ronon, he's pretty much a mess after what he's been through, and I can't blame him for that. Teyla, who's seen the same if not more, and living with Wraith nightmares all her life, is still so innocent, which I find unnatural.

I've got to say I have come to feed on that innocence and compassion. I hunger for it at times, not like a Wraith. God, forbid! But there's salvation in that innocence. It's the light in her eyes when she smiles and that smile is nothing less than blinding. I don't wax poetic that's not who I am or what I'm about. I don't say, 'I love you,' I've found that to be far more selfish than comforting. I will say that I care for her deeply, that she breathes life into something I thought lost.

Maybe it's hope? Maybe it's honest to goodness happiness? Who knows...but I can tell you this, it's definitely like being on a Ferris wheel or a rollercoaster 8 times, and it's still not enough. You know that crazy rush you get when you ride it, and feeling the wind in your hair and when your belly drops from under you. I actually can't wait to bring her to Earth so I can introduce her to them, there's no doubt she'd love it. It's like sharing cotton candy with the prettiest girl in school and thinking that the day just can't get any better; or, buying that limited edition toy plane model that it took you three months to save up for.

I think between a Ferris wheel and rollercoaster I'd take the Ferris wheel hands down. You see there's a romance with a Ferris wheel. It's always a two-seater, and it's a smoother ride with a light rush and it doesn't end. Rollercoasters are like 'wham bam, thank you ma'ams', but Ferris wheels are for teenage crushes or for old lovers, or married folks, or moms' and their kids.

My mother adored Ferris wheels when she was alive, she's the one who got me hooked and took me to my first. It was Oktoberfest in Germany at the time we were visiting family in Ireland…she decided to go on a whim. She loved adventure and was just as strong willed as Teyla, no one could stop her when she had an idea. I didn't know what to expect, I was only 5 then and having never been to a fair before, least of all in another country besides Ireland and back home in the US. Then the Ferris wheels were ancient and made out of wood, not as spectacular as they are now, but it didn't matter, because me and her were together, and it was exhilarating being so high up. I thought we couldn't get any higher, and when I looked at her, with her head titled back and a wide grin on her face, I thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world.

Yeah, there's definitely a romance about the Ferris wheel; Teyla would love that. I'd love to take her. See her eyes light up as our seat moved higher up, we'd probably be sharing a container of popcorn or cotton candy, she'd like cotton candy.

"John…" a quiet whisper of his name comes from the direction of his bed. "John…?"

In the dark room it's a bit difficult to make out the features, but the dim glow of a quarter moon helps. It can be said by the lilting tone in the voice that it is undoubtedly feminine, with her back turned to me on the rumpled bed, in the middle of the room.

"Yeah," I quietly reply, without turning from the stars in the sky and the rolling waves of the ocean below. I can hear the rustling of the sheets and bed, along the figures, body as she turns, facing towards me.

"Why are you sitting alone?" she still whispers, in a soft tone, as if not wanting to wake anyone; knowing quite well we are the only two in the room. Probably she doesn't want to jar me too much from my thoughts.

"Just thinking…" I reply, just as quietly as before. Even though I'm not looking towards her, I can sense her eyes rolling at my answer. This thought brings a smile to my face.

"Thinking of what?" she asked curiously.

"I'm thinking of Dr. Weir, Atlantis…" I state sardonically, unfortunately my mouth works faster than my mind. It was my response back when we were led to believe we were all allowed to go home by that alien race on the mist planet.

"Hmmm…I am sure Dr. Weir is all right, as I am sure Atlantis is all right," she replies just as hesitantly as she did then, never a step behind but at my side as she too clearly remembers that mission. I turn towards her then, I'm sure I can see her grinning at me.

I grin back in response, even if she can't see. In a hushed tone I say, "I was also thinking of Ferris wheels and you."

"Me and Ferris wheels…" she repeats quietly, you can hear a bit of wonder in her tone. "What have I done to deserve such an honor?" she says before I could reply to her first statement.

"Nothing, everything…" I answer in that same whisper. "Being you…" I fiddle with a stray string on my black t-shirt as I say this. Seemingly, like a shy boy revealing his crush.

I wouldn't speak this way with her in public, nor would I speak this way with her in the light of day. But in the evening, when it's too dark to make out the blushes, or to be worried about seen of as less than a man—I'm no Ronon. I let that secret part of me out the one who's not sardonic or sarcastic, who's not playful and challenging all the time, or even charming. I let out the one that just wants to experience a Ferris wheel ride with a woman who loves me even more.

She's now lying on her stomach as she faces me, her hand skimming the edge of the mattress, she says, "Thank you, John. I shall take that as a compliment."

"It could be nothing else…" I assert. I want her to know I would never lie or flatter her, for my own needs. I speak this way because it's the truth and nothing else. Not turning from her I continue pointlessly, "The night is quiet."

I see the motions of her body as she turns to sit up and look towards me, I can make her stretching out her hand towards me, she agrees, "Yes it is John…."

Looking at her hand and her, the bed looking so inviting, I rise as she says, "Come to bed…"

"Come to bed, John" she restates as to me, as I move closer.

I take my rightful place by her side, cocooned in her acceptance, her devotion, and innocence, she whispers in my ear as I nestle into her neck and breasts, her fingers running through my hair, "We can dream of Ferris wheels and each other…"

It's good to be here, she's the right woman. Teyla is the only woman I could see riding that Ferris wheel to God knows where…

Don't go far off, not even for a day,

Don't go far off, not even for a day, because—

because—I don't know how to say it: a day is long

and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station

when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep.

Don't leave me, for even an hour, because

the little drops of anguish will all run together,

the smoke that roams looking for a home will drift

into me, choking my lost heart.

Oh, may your silhouette, never dissolve on the beach;

may, your eyelids never flutter into the empty distance.

Don't leave me for a second my dearest,

because in that moment you'll have gone so far

I'll wander mazily over all the earth, asking,

Will you come back? Will you leave me here, dying?

— 'I Crave Your Mouth, Your Voice, Your Hair' by

Pablo Neruda