visionshadows (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
visionshadows) wrote2007-02-18 07:11 pm
visionshadows) wrote2007-02-18 07:11 pm
wip amnesty...
Silent for a week and the first thing I do is post a bunch of WIPs for WIP Amnesty. I heart WIP Amnesty.
General Walter Sheppard had a long and illustrious career with the Air Force starting as a reconnaissance pilot that led to him running yet another secret branch of the US Military specializing in covert ops. Four of his five kids had entered the military in one branch or the other.
John had been the only one stupid enough to enter the Air Force and his father never forgave him for that. Early on, John had known that he would spend his life in his father’s shadow unless he distinguished himself somehow.
Disobeying direct orders was not the way he had planned to do it, but it worked. General Walter Sheppard had called him home shortly after he had been reassigned to McMurdo and informed John that he was a failure and he considered him an embarrassment to the family.
Sometimes John wondered if his father knew just how vital he ended up being to the US Air Force and the safety of Earth.
Teyla’s knuckles were white as she gripped the armrests, her eyes closed tightly and her back ramrod straight. John wanted to soothe her, to promise her that it was just turbulence and it would get better, but the first time he tried that, she had slapped his hand away and told him to keep his lying mouth shut. John knew better than to try again.
He looked out the window instead, trying to lose himself in the wisp of clouds that surrounded the airplane, to try and forget what awaited them on the ground. He thought of Atlantis and the billions of miles that separated himself and Teyla from their home. He ran the lies through his head, trying to integrate the lies so when he opened his mouth to speak, the truth wouldn’t slip out.
“You love this?” asked Teyla after the plane’s motions smoothed out again. Her fingers loosened slightly on the armrests and her back relaxed. “I had no idea you enjoyed spending an extended period of time feeling like you were going to vomit.”
“This isn’t flying. Commercial airplanes are nothing like what I love to fly,” said John, looking back at her. “You want to look out the window?”
“I miss the Jumpers,” Teyla said with a shake of her head, leaning against the seat tiredly. “When will we be landing?”
John looked at his watch which was set to standard military time instead of Atlantis time. On Earth it was 1800 hours, early evening instead of early afternoon. “In about twenty minutes. That’s why we’re hitting more turbulence, we’re descending below the clouds.”
“There is no other way to return to Colorado other than airplane?” asked Teyla.
“Train will take too long. Maybe we can catch a military transport back though it wouldn’t be any better than this, just less people.”
Teyla closed her eyes again and John wished almost desperately for Rodney to appear next to him instead, to rave over the airline food and the tiny Styrofoam cup of bad coffee. But Rodney was billions of miles away in another galaxy and he couldn’t stand next to John like Teyla could.
John closed his eyes as well and thought again about the lies, repeating the same things over and over again in his mind – lies about Teyla and her ancestry, lies about their relationship, lies about where he had been for the past five years. John knew that when he landed and he said hello to his family, every word out of his mouth would be a lie.
“Well Johnny, looks like you’ve finally found someone who’ll put up with you. Took you long enough. We were placing bets on whether or not you turned into a military queer down in Antartica.”
Teyla shifted a little next to John, her hand firm in his as John’s brother descended on them, all wide smiles and false enthusiasm. John gave him a tight smile before holding out his hand in greeting.
“Hello, Ben,” John said calmly, even though he really wanted to punch his brother for years of silence and torment. “I’d like you to meet Teyla.”
Ben gathered Teyla into a hug, patting her back and pulling back to look at her. “You’re certaintly exotic looking. Johnny always did like his women unique. Where are you from?”
Teyla stepped back as soon as Ben released her. “I was born in Brazil, but I have spent the majority of my life moving around.”
John could feel the tension in Teyla’s body, could practically see the hatred rising from her as she spoke politely to his brother. There had been no way to explain to Teyla without poisoning her against his entire family just what they were getting themselves into.
“Well come on,” Ben said, clapping John’s shoulder. “Mom’s waiting back at the homestead for you to arrive. Once you’re there everything can really get rolling.”
It was sudden, Elizabeth had said when she had broken the news to him. John had just nodded, assuming wrongly that his father’s death meant little to Elizabeth and the top brass at the SGC.
But apparently the death of General Walter Sheppard meant that his son had to be returned to Earth and a cover-up had to begin that would explain his absence for the last five years. John refused to go alone and since taking Rodney with him was impossible, Teyla had stepped forward to join him on Earth.
When the ‘Gate had opened and John stepped through, followed by a large number of the expedition taking advantage of the trip home, General Landry had been waiting for him. Twelve hours later, he and Teyla were on a plane to New Jersey.
“What needs to be done?” asked John, reaching for Teyla’s hand again.
Ben looked at him for a moment before digging in his pocket for his car keys. “You need to see him.”
“No,” John said vehemently. “I really don’t.”
John looked down at the body of his father, trying to figure out just how he was supposed to feel. He’d killed so many over the last five years, seen so many dead bodies of people he’d cared about more than his father.
Next to him, his sister Sandy was crying softly, a tissue pressed to her eye. “Oh Johnny, I wish you had been here before he died.”
“Why?” asked John softly, his eyes still on his father. He looked the same as he had seven years before, staring John down and telling him he was a failure, just paler. “He didn’t want to see me.”
“You would have been able to say goodbye to him,” Sandy said, moving closer to him and sliding her arm around his waist. “Buried the past.”
“I thought that was what we were doing tomorrow.”
Sandy pulled away and her nostrils flared as she glared at him angrily. “You are such a bastard. He’s dead, Johnny! Let it go.”
“Tell me the truth, Sandy. Did he want to see me before he died? Did he ever once ask for me?”
Sandy didn’t answer him, just dabbed at her eyes again. John chuckled mirthlessly. “I thought so.”
“Dad was never good at being wrong,” Sandy said after another few minutes where John had stared at a dead body and thought of Ford, Markham, Sumner, and countless others instead of his father. “And he was wrong, John.”
“I fly choppers in Antarctica,” John sighed before reaching down to touch his father’s folded hands, covering them with one of his own. “There’s nowhere else for me to go and he knew that. I bet he was thrilled.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Sandy said, dabbing at her eyes again before leaning down to kiss her father’s cheek. “He never wanted any of us to fail.”
“Your family is … ” Teyla trailed off, searching for the correct word. “Trying. I feel as if I am trying to negotiate with the Genii. Everyone speaks in half-truths and with thinly veiled hostility.”
John handed her a beer before sitting down on the bed next to her. “Except we don’t have guns.”
“I imagine having weapons would only lead to us using them,” Teyla said with a smile. “However if your brother touches me again, I believe I will have to hurt him.”
“I won’t stop you.” John took a long drink of his beer, half-closing his eyes. “I do miss beer.”
Teyla took a sip, rolling the taste around in her mouth before swallowing. “Why have you not recreated this with items from the Pegasus galaxy?”
John shrugged. “Zelenka’s always been better at making vodka.”
Teyla hummed a little before taking another sip. “His drink is quite potent. Halling loves it when Dr. Zelenka comes to help them with the stills.”
John just nodded a little, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his beer dangling from his fingertips. Teyla moved closer and touched the back of his neck gently with slightly chilled fingers.
“When my father died,” Teyla said quietly. “It was a great loss to our people and many who did not even know him mourned by my side. From what Colonel Carter has told me, your father was a very important man as well. Perhaps it is a great loss to your people as well though not a great loss to you.”
John turned to look at her, his expression calm. “I think it’s supposed to be a loss to me.”
Teyla continued to gently stroke the back of his neck, sending small tremors down his spine. “It does not have to be. Perhaps the best thing to do right now is see it as a loss to your people and mourn appropriately for that occasion.”
“I can do that,” John said, his voice hoarse and his dick hard in his pants. He wished desperately for Rodney who would make a snide comment about John being able to get hard anywhere before sliding to his knees and sucking him off. He reached for Teyla’s hand, gently pulling it away from his neck and holding it close. “I wish we were home.”
When Dr. Greg House stepped through the Stargate onto Atlantis, Elizabeth straightened her shoulders and steeled herself against whatever he was going to say this time. The first time he’d been called to Atlantis, he’d revealed to the entire base that Elizabeth used to wet the bed when she was a kid and frankly, if she wanted information like that kept under wraps she shouldn’t have made him a consultant for the SGC.
The second time, he’d told everyone about the time when they were six and Elizabeth had let him touch her ass in exchange for Mary Jane’s and first choice of dessert at Thanksgiving.
Elizabeth was almost positive he was going to reveal either the time in high school when she had the unfortunate run-in with a skunk or the time in college when she showed up drunk at his apartment and proceeded to throw up all over his piano.
If he wasn’t so good at what he did, Elizabeth would have written her cousin off years ago. Unfortunately he was one of the best diagnosticians in the world and had no problem figuring out weird alien diseases.
“Lizzie!” House shouted from the ramp in front of the Stargate. “Remember the time you threw up on my piano? God, you were so toasted because of what’s his name. The guy with the small dick who thought he was smarter than me. And hey, you. Marine guy. Get my luggage.” He stamped his cane against the ramp. “Don’t you see the cane?”
Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly before walking over to her cousin. “It’s always so good to see you, Greg. It makes me long for the last time I had a root canal.”
House smirked at her. “You say the sweetest things, Lizzie. Gram says hi, but she might have been talking to her pudding. You never can tell.”
Elizabeth shook her head and hugged him tightly. “I missed you too.”
House squeezed her in return. “I suppose, if pressed, I might admit that I missed you too.”
“If pressed,” Elizabeth chuckled as she pulled back. “Thanks for coming on such short notice.”
“I hate being called by the government. They’re always so obtuse and frustrating,” House said as he twisted the cap of a pill bottle and shook one into his hand. “Besides, that thing - ” he gestured at the Stargate. “ – makes me feel all funny. Like I’ve been having sex with my professors again. Oh wait, that was you.”
Elizabeth squeezed the bridge of her nose. “Are you still sleeping with your fellow? What was his name – Chase?”
“Not anymore,” House said easily. “I’ve moved on to bigger and better things.”
“In other words he dumped you and Wilson’s still married,” Elizabeth said as they slowly walked down the ramp towards the steps leading up to her office. “So it’s hookers again.”
“Wilson’s always married and hookers are cheap and plentiful,” House said, stopping at the foot of the steps. “I see this place hasn’t changed any.”
“Nope,” Elizabeth said, a hand on his elbow as they slowly made their way up the steps where Carson was waiting. “You want your usual room?”
“Depends. Do you have a room that comes complete with a hot blonde to service my every need?”
“We still haven’t found the Pegasus galaxy escort service,” Elizabeth said with a smile. “Sorry, Greg.”
“Then my usual room is fine,” House said, stopping halfway and looking up at Sheppard. “And look! It’s the good Colonel Sheppard. Nice to know it’s not your ass I’m saving again. Is it McKay? Please tell me it’s McKay.”
“It’s not Rodney,” Elizabeth sighed. “I wish you wouldn’t sound so happy at the thought of Rodney being seriously ill.”
Chris sees her by accident, bumping into each other outside of a shitty convenience store in Malibu. Her hair is pulled back and greasy looking, her body showing the obvious signs of having had a baby. She looks as unhappy as he feels.
Britney looks at him for a long time before getting into her car and driving away.
“Who was that?”
Chris looks over at his girlfriend and shrugs a little. “Old enemy.”
Jill laughs a little and shakes her head. “You have more enemies than you do friends these days.”
Chris turns a little, looking off in the direction Britney had gone. “She was never a friend.”
“You should call her,” Justin says with a broad laugh. There’s a hum on the phone line again and Chris decides to get a new cell phone tomorrow. This fucking annoys the shit out of him. “Tell her how fucking happy you are.”
“Why? Because you think she’s miserable?”
“She is miserable, Chris.”
“Well I’m not an asshole like you,” Chris mutters as he flips through his rolodex. “I don’t even have her number anymore.”
“You fucked her in my bed!”
“That’s because you were an asshole.”
Justin snorts into the phone, loud and obnoxious. “Yeah, well. You still talk to me.”
“Only because I’m a fucking masochist apparently,” Chris says, his fingers stopping when he reaches a familiar name. “I gotta go. Go surf or whatever the fuck it is you two kids do these days.”
“I’ll tell Cam you say hi.”
There’s a click when Justin hangs up, fast so Chris can’t tell him he’s not fucking saying hi to Cameron and Justin can just stop pretending that his friends like her because hi, none of them do. Not that they’re all really friends anymore, but still. Chris doesn’t like to be misrepresented like that.
He plucks Britney’s phone number from his rolodex and leaves it by the phone.
Chris whistles tunelessly as he twirls a dart in his hand and blearily aims for the dartboard across the way. He’s got three beers and four shots in him and he’s feeling pretty good right about now. Dark, disgusting LA bars still make him feel at home.
There’s a tap on his shoulder and Chris turns, the dart still in his hand. He comes face to face with someone’s chest and he looks up, furrowing his brow. “Do I know you?”
“No,” the man says before pointing towards the corner. “But she does.”
And it’s fucking déjà vu all over again.
Chris slides into the booth as gracefully as possible, resting his elbows on the sticky table. Britney slides a pack of cigarettes across to him, her own held delicately between two manicured fingers.
“You look better than you did a few weeks ago,” Chris says as he fumbles with the pack, managing to get one out and lit without making too much of a fool of himself.
“It’s amazing what a little makeup and some sleep will do for a person.”
Chris nods in agreement. “So how’s the kid?”
Britney smiles a little – a real smile – and shrugs. “He’s good. Cries a lot.”
“And the husband?” Chris reaches across the table for her glass of vodka, taking a drink. “Or should I pretend he doesn’t exist?”
“Our marriage is fine.” Britney says, her voice hollow and her face expressionless. It’s eerily familiar and Chris stares at her before shrugging. “Whatever. So what do you want from me?”
“Who says I want something?” Britney takes her vodka back from him and drains it, gesturing with one hand to her bodyguard. “Maybe I just wanted to have a drink with you and reminisce about simpler times?”
Chris laughs harshly. “Simpler times? Like when we both were dating the same guy? Or maybe the time we fucked in his bed to piss him the fuck off?”
“The second one.”
Chris gapes at her for a moment, the cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth. “What?”
“I want to talk about that.”
Two vodkas are set on the table by Britney’s bodyguard and Chris picks up one, taking a fast gulp. “Why do you want to talk about that? It was years ago.”
“Why did you say yes?”
Chris shakes his head and stubs out his half-smoked cigarette. “Nope, not going to do this. Thanks for the smoke, for the drink, but I’m not fucking doing this. Leave it alone.”
Britney’s hand shoots out and grabs Chris’s wrist, hard and fast, her grip like a vise. “
Fraser set his hat on the counter before taking the pen offered him. He signed in, writing his name as carefully as possible. He stared at the line he had written on, looking at his name across from Victoria’s. After a moment, he set the pen down and picked up his hat, smiling politely at the desk clerk.
Ray cleared his throat discreetly. “You sure you want to do this on your own? Cause I can go in with you. Stand there and be all menacing and shit.”
“Thank you kindly, Ray,” Fraser said quietly, giving him a tight smile. “But I need to do this myself.”
“Right. I’ll be here waiting though. I’m not goin’ anywhere until you’re done,” Ray said firmly. He sat down in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs, his leg bouncing nervously already. “I might go get some coffee though.”
“That sounds like a very fine idea, Ray,” Fraser said absently. He looked at the door, at the officer waiting for him. “Take Dief. I’m sure he would appreciate being out of the car.”
Ray watched him for a moment, his expression worried. “Go on. You’ve been waiting a long time for this.”
Fraser looked at him once more before following the officer through the door and down a long, dark hallway. He felt chilled, his palms sweating. Five years. Five long years. He had dreamed about being the one to find her, dreamed about having her at his mercy.
In his darker hours, he dreamed about killing her himself, feeling her life slip away under his hands. He shivered again, clenching his hands into fists.
“The prisoner is in here,” the officer said, her voice low, startling Fraser out of his thoughts. “You have fifteen minutes. Her lawyer will be watching through the window.”
“Understood,” Fraser said, looking in the window on the door. Victoria was sitting at the table, her hands handcuffed in front of her. He turned away, biting his lip. “Are the handcuffs necessary?”
“She’s on trial for murder, Mr. Fraser, and she’s already attacked two medical officers in an attempt to escape,” the officer reached for the doorknob. “They’re necessary.”
Fraser balked in the doorway as Victoria turned to look at him, her brown eyes warm and soft. He felt his heart clench in his chest and he almost walked back out, back to Ray and their life far away from Chicago.
“Ben,” Victoria said softly, reaching her hands up to brush back a lock of curls. Her hair had been chopped off, a messy riot of curls around her face. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Your lawyer informed you that I would be required to appear at the trial,” Fraser said, sitting down at the seat across from her. He set his hat on his lap, staring at her. “I needed to see you.”
“I had hoped you would be the one to find me,” she said, her voice soft and tender. “It would have been fitting.”
Fraser shook his head slowly. “I never looked. Not once.”
Victoria’s face fell and she leaned forward, pushing her handcuffed hands across the table towards Fraser. Reluctantly, he reached a hand out, covering her small ones with his own.
“I thought you loved me.”
Fraser’s hand tightened on hers and his jaw tensed. “So did I. I’m afraid I was wrong about that.”
“Is that so?” Victoria pulled back, her expression changing to a smirk. “And here I thought you were going to come in and profess your undying love for me.”
“And what?” Fraser asked sharply. “Get you out of here?”
“Well,” Victoria said with a smile, licking her lips. “You always did what I wanted you to do before.”
“I sent you to prison.”
“You were going to leave with me.”
Fraser looked away, staring at the grey concrete wall. “Yes.”
“You were going to let your friend Ray lose his house, lose his entire life because you loved me so much.”
“Yes.”
“We can be together, Ben,” Victoria said earnestly. “We can be a family. All you have to do is say that I didn’t kill Jolly.”
Fraser looked at her. “But you did.”
“Are you sure? Because you weren’t there. No one was there besides myself and Jolly,” Victoria said, her voice a low murmur. “And he’s dead. Maybe it was self-defence. Jolly was a bastard who had a long record of violent and criminal acts. Maybe I had no choice but to kill him to save myself.”
General Walter Sheppard had a long and illustrious career with the Air Force starting as a reconnaissance pilot that led to him running yet another secret branch of the US Military specializing in covert ops. Four of his five kids had entered the military in one branch or the other.
John had been the only one stupid enough to enter the Air Force and his father never forgave him for that. Early on, John had known that he would spend his life in his father’s shadow unless he distinguished himself somehow.
Disobeying direct orders was not the way he had planned to do it, but it worked. General Walter Sheppard had called him home shortly after he had been reassigned to McMurdo and informed John that he was a failure and he considered him an embarrassment to the family.
Sometimes John wondered if his father knew just how vital he ended up being to the US Air Force and the safety of Earth.
Teyla’s knuckles were white as she gripped the armrests, her eyes closed tightly and her back ramrod straight. John wanted to soothe her, to promise her that it was just turbulence and it would get better, but the first time he tried that, she had slapped his hand away and told him to keep his lying mouth shut. John knew better than to try again.
He looked out the window instead, trying to lose himself in the wisp of clouds that surrounded the airplane, to try and forget what awaited them on the ground. He thought of Atlantis and the billions of miles that separated himself and Teyla from their home. He ran the lies through his head, trying to integrate the lies so when he opened his mouth to speak, the truth wouldn’t slip out.
“You love this?” asked Teyla after the plane’s motions smoothed out again. Her fingers loosened slightly on the armrests and her back relaxed. “I had no idea you enjoyed spending an extended period of time feeling like you were going to vomit.”
“This isn’t flying. Commercial airplanes are nothing like what I love to fly,” said John, looking back at her. “You want to look out the window?”
“I miss the Jumpers,” Teyla said with a shake of her head, leaning against the seat tiredly. “When will we be landing?”
John looked at his watch which was set to standard military time instead of Atlantis time. On Earth it was 1800 hours, early evening instead of early afternoon. “In about twenty minutes. That’s why we’re hitting more turbulence, we’re descending below the clouds.”
“There is no other way to return to Colorado other than airplane?” asked Teyla.
“Train will take too long. Maybe we can catch a military transport back though it wouldn’t be any better than this, just less people.”
Teyla closed her eyes again and John wished almost desperately for Rodney to appear next to him instead, to rave over the airline food and the tiny Styrofoam cup of bad coffee. But Rodney was billions of miles away in another galaxy and he couldn’t stand next to John like Teyla could.
John closed his eyes as well and thought again about the lies, repeating the same things over and over again in his mind – lies about Teyla and her ancestry, lies about their relationship, lies about where he had been for the past five years. John knew that when he landed and he said hello to his family, every word out of his mouth would be a lie.
“Well Johnny, looks like you’ve finally found someone who’ll put up with you. Took you long enough. We were placing bets on whether or not you turned into a military queer down in Antartica.”
Teyla shifted a little next to John, her hand firm in his as John’s brother descended on them, all wide smiles and false enthusiasm. John gave him a tight smile before holding out his hand in greeting.
“Hello, Ben,” John said calmly, even though he really wanted to punch his brother for years of silence and torment. “I’d like you to meet Teyla.”
Ben gathered Teyla into a hug, patting her back and pulling back to look at her. “You’re certaintly exotic looking. Johnny always did like his women unique. Where are you from?”
Teyla stepped back as soon as Ben released her. “I was born in Brazil, but I have spent the majority of my life moving around.”
John could feel the tension in Teyla’s body, could practically see the hatred rising from her as she spoke politely to his brother. There had been no way to explain to Teyla without poisoning her against his entire family just what they were getting themselves into.
“Well come on,” Ben said, clapping John’s shoulder. “Mom’s waiting back at the homestead for you to arrive. Once you’re there everything can really get rolling.”
It was sudden, Elizabeth had said when she had broken the news to him. John had just nodded, assuming wrongly that his father’s death meant little to Elizabeth and the top brass at the SGC.
But apparently the death of General Walter Sheppard meant that his son had to be returned to Earth and a cover-up had to begin that would explain his absence for the last five years. John refused to go alone and since taking Rodney with him was impossible, Teyla had stepped forward to join him on Earth.
When the ‘Gate had opened and John stepped through, followed by a large number of the expedition taking advantage of the trip home, General Landry had been waiting for him. Twelve hours later, he and Teyla were on a plane to New Jersey.
“What needs to be done?” asked John, reaching for Teyla’s hand again.
Ben looked at him for a moment before digging in his pocket for his car keys. “You need to see him.”
“No,” John said vehemently. “I really don’t.”
John looked down at the body of his father, trying to figure out just how he was supposed to feel. He’d killed so many over the last five years, seen so many dead bodies of people he’d cared about more than his father.
Next to him, his sister Sandy was crying softly, a tissue pressed to her eye. “Oh Johnny, I wish you had been here before he died.”
“Why?” asked John softly, his eyes still on his father. He looked the same as he had seven years before, staring John down and telling him he was a failure, just paler. “He didn’t want to see me.”
“You would have been able to say goodbye to him,” Sandy said, moving closer to him and sliding her arm around his waist. “Buried the past.”
“I thought that was what we were doing tomorrow.”
Sandy pulled away and her nostrils flared as she glared at him angrily. “You are such a bastard. He’s dead, Johnny! Let it go.”
“Tell me the truth, Sandy. Did he want to see me before he died? Did he ever once ask for me?”
Sandy didn’t answer him, just dabbed at her eyes again. John chuckled mirthlessly. “I thought so.”
“Dad was never good at being wrong,” Sandy said after another few minutes where John had stared at a dead body and thought of Ford, Markham, Sumner, and countless others instead of his father. “And he was wrong, John.”
“I fly choppers in Antarctica,” John sighed before reaching down to touch his father’s folded hands, covering them with one of his own. “There’s nowhere else for me to go and he knew that. I bet he was thrilled.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Sandy said, dabbing at her eyes again before leaning down to kiss her father’s cheek. “He never wanted any of us to fail.”
“Your family is … ” Teyla trailed off, searching for the correct word. “Trying. I feel as if I am trying to negotiate with the Genii. Everyone speaks in half-truths and with thinly veiled hostility.”
John handed her a beer before sitting down on the bed next to her. “Except we don’t have guns.”
“I imagine having weapons would only lead to us using them,” Teyla said with a smile. “However if your brother touches me again, I believe I will have to hurt him.”
“I won’t stop you.” John took a long drink of his beer, half-closing his eyes. “I do miss beer.”
Teyla took a sip, rolling the taste around in her mouth before swallowing. “Why have you not recreated this with items from the Pegasus galaxy?”
John shrugged. “Zelenka’s always been better at making vodka.”
Teyla hummed a little before taking another sip. “His drink is quite potent. Halling loves it when Dr. Zelenka comes to help them with the stills.”
John just nodded a little, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his beer dangling from his fingertips. Teyla moved closer and touched the back of his neck gently with slightly chilled fingers.
“When my father died,” Teyla said quietly. “It was a great loss to our people and many who did not even know him mourned by my side. From what Colonel Carter has told me, your father was a very important man as well. Perhaps it is a great loss to your people as well though not a great loss to you.”
John turned to look at her, his expression calm. “I think it’s supposed to be a loss to me.”
Teyla continued to gently stroke the back of his neck, sending small tremors down his spine. “It does not have to be. Perhaps the best thing to do right now is see it as a loss to your people and mourn appropriately for that occasion.”
“I can do that,” John said, his voice hoarse and his dick hard in his pants. He wished desperately for Rodney who would make a snide comment about John being able to get hard anywhere before sliding to his knees and sucking him off. He reached for Teyla’s hand, gently pulling it away from his neck and holding it close. “I wish we were home.”
When Dr. Greg House stepped through the Stargate onto Atlantis, Elizabeth straightened her shoulders and steeled herself against whatever he was going to say this time. The first time he’d been called to Atlantis, he’d revealed to the entire base that Elizabeth used to wet the bed when she was a kid and frankly, if she wanted information like that kept under wraps she shouldn’t have made him a consultant for the SGC.
The second time, he’d told everyone about the time when they were six and Elizabeth had let him touch her ass in exchange for Mary Jane’s and first choice of dessert at Thanksgiving.
Elizabeth was almost positive he was going to reveal either the time in high school when she had the unfortunate run-in with a skunk or the time in college when she showed up drunk at his apartment and proceeded to throw up all over his piano.
If he wasn’t so good at what he did, Elizabeth would have written her cousin off years ago. Unfortunately he was one of the best diagnosticians in the world and had no problem figuring out weird alien diseases.
“Lizzie!” House shouted from the ramp in front of the Stargate. “Remember the time you threw up on my piano? God, you were so toasted because of what’s his name. The guy with the small dick who thought he was smarter than me. And hey, you. Marine guy. Get my luggage.” He stamped his cane against the ramp. “Don’t you see the cane?”
Elizabeth closed her eyes briefly before walking over to her cousin. “It’s always so good to see you, Greg. It makes me long for the last time I had a root canal.”
House smirked at her. “You say the sweetest things, Lizzie. Gram says hi, but she might have been talking to her pudding. You never can tell.”
Elizabeth shook her head and hugged him tightly. “I missed you too.”
House squeezed her in return. “I suppose, if pressed, I might admit that I missed you too.”
“If pressed,” Elizabeth chuckled as she pulled back. “Thanks for coming on such short notice.”
“I hate being called by the government. They’re always so obtuse and frustrating,” House said as he twisted the cap of a pill bottle and shook one into his hand. “Besides, that thing - ” he gestured at the Stargate. “ – makes me feel all funny. Like I’ve been having sex with my professors again. Oh wait, that was you.”
Elizabeth squeezed the bridge of her nose. “Are you still sleeping with your fellow? What was his name – Chase?”
“Not anymore,” House said easily. “I’ve moved on to bigger and better things.”
“In other words he dumped you and Wilson’s still married,” Elizabeth said as they slowly walked down the ramp towards the steps leading up to her office. “So it’s hookers again.”
“Wilson’s always married and hookers are cheap and plentiful,” House said, stopping at the foot of the steps. “I see this place hasn’t changed any.”
“Nope,” Elizabeth said, a hand on his elbow as they slowly made their way up the steps where Carson was waiting. “You want your usual room?”
“Depends. Do you have a room that comes complete with a hot blonde to service my every need?”
“We still haven’t found the Pegasus galaxy escort service,” Elizabeth said with a smile. “Sorry, Greg.”
“Then my usual room is fine,” House said, stopping halfway and looking up at Sheppard. “And look! It’s the good Colonel Sheppard. Nice to know it’s not your ass I’m saving again. Is it McKay? Please tell me it’s McKay.”
“It’s not Rodney,” Elizabeth sighed. “I wish you wouldn’t sound so happy at the thought of Rodney being seriously ill.”
Chris sees her by accident, bumping into each other outside of a shitty convenience store in Malibu. Her hair is pulled back and greasy looking, her body showing the obvious signs of having had a baby. She looks as unhappy as he feels.
Britney looks at him for a long time before getting into her car and driving away.
“Who was that?”
Chris looks over at his girlfriend and shrugs a little. “Old enemy.”
Jill laughs a little and shakes her head. “You have more enemies than you do friends these days.”
Chris turns a little, looking off in the direction Britney had gone. “She was never a friend.”
“You should call her,” Justin says with a broad laugh. There’s a hum on the phone line again and Chris decides to get a new cell phone tomorrow. This fucking annoys the shit out of him. “Tell her how fucking happy you are.”
“Why? Because you think she’s miserable?”
“She is miserable, Chris.”
“Well I’m not an asshole like you,” Chris mutters as he flips through his rolodex. “I don’t even have her number anymore.”
“You fucked her in my bed!”
“That’s because you were an asshole.”
Justin snorts into the phone, loud and obnoxious. “Yeah, well. You still talk to me.”
“Only because I’m a fucking masochist apparently,” Chris says, his fingers stopping when he reaches a familiar name. “I gotta go. Go surf or whatever the fuck it is you two kids do these days.”
“I’ll tell Cam you say hi.”
There’s a click when Justin hangs up, fast so Chris can’t tell him he’s not fucking saying hi to Cameron and Justin can just stop pretending that his friends like her because hi, none of them do. Not that they’re all really friends anymore, but still. Chris doesn’t like to be misrepresented like that.
He plucks Britney’s phone number from his rolodex and leaves it by the phone.
Chris whistles tunelessly as he twirls a dart in his hand and blearily aims for the dartboard across the way. He’s got three beers and four shots in him and he’s feeling pretty good right about now. Dark, disgusting LA bars still make him feel at home.
There’s a tap on his shoulder and Chris turns, the dart still in his hand. He comes face to face with someone’s chest and he looks up, furrowing his brow. “Do I know you?”
“No,” the man says before pointing towards the corner. “But she does.”
And it’s fucking déjà vu all over again.
Chris slides into the booth as gracefully as possible, resting his elbows on the sticky table. Britney slides a pack of cigarettes across to him, her own held delicately between two manicured fingers.
“You look better than you did a few weeks ago,” Chris says as he fumbles with the pack, managing to get one out and lit without making too much of a fool of himself.
“It’s amazing what a little makeup and some sleep will do for a person.”
Chris nods in agreement. “So how’s the kid?”
Britney smiles a little – a real smile – and shrugs. “He’s good. Cries a lot.”
“And the husband?” Chris reaches across the table for her glass of vodka, taking a drink. “Or should I pretend he doesn’t exist?”
“Our marriage is fine.” Britney says, her voice hollow and her face expressionless. It’s eerily familiar and Chris stares at her before shrugging. “Whatever. So what do you want from me?”
“Who says I want something?” Britney takes her vodka back from him and drains it, gesturing with one hand to her bodyguard. “Maybe I just wanted to have a drink with you and reminisce about simpler times?”
Chris laughs harshly. “Simpler times? Like when we both were dating the same guy? Or maybe the time we fucked in his bed to piss him the fuck off?”
“The second one.”
Chris gapes at her for a moment, the cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth. “What?”
“I want to talk about that.”
Two vodkas are set on the table by Britney’s bodyguard and Chris picks up one, taking a fast gulp. “Why do you want to talk about that? It was years ago.”
“Why did you say yes?”
Chris shakes his head and stubs out his half-smoked cigarette. “Nope, not going to do this. Thanks for the smoke, for the drink, but I’m not fucking doing this. Leave it alone.”
Britney’s hand shoots out and grabs Chris’s wrist, hard and fast, her grip like a vise. “
Fraser set his hat on the counter before taking the pen offered him. He signed in, writing his name as carefully as possible. He stared at the line he had written on, looking at his name across from Victoria’s. After a moment, he set the pen down and picked up his hat, smiling politely at the desk clerk.
Ray cleared his throat discreetly. “You sure you want to do this on your own? Cause I can go in with you. Stand there and be all menacing and shit.”
“Thank you kindly, Ray,” Fraser said quietly, giving him a tight smile. “But I need to do this myself.”
“Right. I’ll be here waiting though. I’m not goin’ anywhere until you’re done,” Ray said firmly. He sat down in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs, his leg bouncing nervously already. “I might go get some coffee though.”
“That sounds like a very fine idea, Ray,” Fraser said absently. He looked at the door, at the officer waiting for him. “Take Dief. I’m sure he would appreciate being out of the car.”
Ray watched him for a moment, his expression worried. “Go on. You’ve been waiting a long time for this.”
Fraser looked at him once more before following the officer through the door and down a long, dark hallway. He felt chilled, his palms sweating. Five years. Five long years. He had dreamed about being the one to find her, dreamed about having her at his mercy.
In his darker hours, he dreamed about killing her himself, feeling her life slip away under his hands. He shivered again, clenching his hands into fists.
“The prisoner is in here,” the officer said, her voice low, startling Fraser out of his thoughts. “You have fifteen minutes. Her lawyer will be watching through the window.”
“Understood,” Fraser said, looking in the window on the door. Victoria was sitting at the table, her hands handcuffed in front of her. He turned away, biting his lip. “Are the handcuffs necessary?”
“She’s on trial for murder, Mr. Fraser, and she’s already attacked two medical officers in an attempt to escape,” the officer reached for the doorknob. “They’re necessary.”
Fraser balked in the doorway as Victoria turned to look at him, her brown eyes warm and soft. He felt his heart clench in his chest and he almost walked back out, back to Ray and their life far away from Chicago.
“Ben,” Victoria said softly, reaching her hands up to brush back a lock of curls. Her hair had been chopped off, a messy riot of curls around her face. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“Your lawyer informed you that I would be required to appear at the trial,” Fraser said, sitting down at the seat across from her. He set his hat on his lap, staring at her. “I needed to see you.”
“I had hoped you would be the one to find me,” she said, her voice soft and tender. “It would have been fitting.”
Fraser shook his head slowly. “I never looked. Not once.”
Victoria’s face fell and she leaned forward, pushing her handcuffed hands across the table towards Fraser. Reluctantly, he reached a hand out, covering her small ones with his own.
“I thought you loved me.”
Fraser’s hand tightened on hers and his jaw tensed. “So did I. I’m afraid I was wrong about that.”
“Is that so?” Victoria pulled back, her expression changing to a smirk. “And here I thought you were going to come in and profess your undying love for me.”
“And what?” Fraser asked sharply. “Get you out of here?”
“Well,” Victoria said with a smile, licking her lips. “You always did what I wanted you to do before.”
“I sent you to prison.”
“You were going to leave with me.”
Fraser looked away, staring at the grey concrete wall. “Yes.”
“You were going to let your friend Ray lose his house, lose his entire life because you loved me so much.”
“Yes.”
“We can be together, Ben,” Victoria said earnestly. “We can be a family. All you have to do is say that I didn’t kill Jolly.”
Fraser looked at her. “But you did.”
“Are you sure? Because you weren’t there. No one was there besides myself and Jolly,” Victoria said, her voice a low murmur. “And he’s dead. Maybe it was self-defence. Jolly was a bastard who had a long record of violent and criminal acts. Maybe I had no choice but to kill him to save myself.”