Stargate: Atlantis: Conflict of Human Nature
Title: Conflict of Human Nature
Rating: PG-13 (will probably raise rating later on)
Warnings: A swear word...that's about it at the moment.
Summary: It is in human nature to fear what is not known, what is not seen, what is not understood. It is also in human nature to survive and to help others survive. When one is threatened, it becomes the all's role to protect and defend...even if there's nothing left but fear.
Author's Notes: I blame the new seasons of Stargate XP Especially since I've actually watched Stargate: Atlantis episodes finally. >D I also blame my inability to stop producing more projects when I know damn well I have hundreds more to work on >_< Geh... Oh, and this is my first fic for this show...so yeah...>.>;;;
Whenever one thinks about how one would wake up after blacking out, one would think that the first thing that would be registered would be pain. To be honest, he'd never been one to actually follow what others thought or determined. So he wasn't the least bit surprised that the first thing he'd registered was an ordorous smell.
Acrid. Musty. Old.
Death.
The next thing he could recall was the sensation of being spun around on his back like how he would sometimes ride on merry-go-rounds when he was a kid. Round and round he seemed to spin, the motion never ceasing even when he started to feel the pain trickling in. It wasn't a stabbing pain, so he knew that he wasn't severely injured--although it could also mean that he had a concussion and couldn't register the amount of pain correctly.
Then came the actual sense of touch. He could feel that he was--in reality--propped up against a cold, metal wall and a equally cool stoned floor. He could also tell that he was dressed in his usual combat uniform. Boots. Pants. Shirt. Jacket. Vest. He could even feel the weapon in his limp right hand, though he couldn't rightly remember why he would have it in his hand in the first place.
Next came sound. He could hear a groaning of metal under pressure, could hear a buzzing sound that normally accompanied silence. It was the buzzing noise that was driving him mad, so he let out a weary and pained moan to fill in the empty air.
Movement. He was able to move if he could make a sound. He slowly opened his eyes and immediately wished he hadn't.
Darkness. The perpetual lack of sight due to the lack of light.
...and was it just him or was the groaning noise and the horrible stence getting worse?
He slowly got himself reaquainted with his limbs, clenching and unclenching his fingers, shifting his legs, wiggling his toes. Seemed like everything was in working order, so he took the initiative and began to shift to put his hands flat against the ground to lift himself up--
And promtly fell back against the wall, banging the back of his head in the process.
He hissed at the pain and reached up to rub the pained area, only to freeze when his fingers brushed against something soft on the metallic wall next to his head. After a moment of not moving, he carefully allowed his hand to continue to reach to his right, fingers trailing along the softer substance. It took a long moment, but he finally realized what it was he was touching.
Cloth. Covering bone.
He scrambled away from where he was seated, grabbing his weapon and aiming it blindly before he attemtped to use the built-in flashlight.
Click--
BZZT!
"Fuck!" he shouted, dropping the weapon with little thought as he felt an electric shock go through it. He heard it clatter in the dark, remembered that he was at a disadvantage in the dark, and scrambled to find it again, only to draw back his hand from its search along the ground when another shock went through it.
Wonderful. Apparently something strange was going on because he knew for a fact that the flashlight ran on batteries not electricity.
"Not good, not good." He stood from his knelt position, hands fisted and held in front of him, wary of an unseen attack. He listened for any sounds of movements and only heard the sound of breathing.
...not just his breathing, either.
Feeling the andrenaline begin to pump and pushing his anxiety down, he spoke in a light voice that would have been a lot smoother if he hadn't just woken up, "Well, I know if you're like me, then you're as blind as I am...unless I'm the only blind one. And if that's the case, I request that you go easy on me."
It didn't really cross his mind that it could have been a Wraith until he felt a hand place itself on his chest. He stiffened, expecting some sort of excruciating pain that would accompany his life being sucked out of him and devoured by the Wraith.
What he didn't expect was another hand to touch his face, cupping his cheek almost in a motherly fashion that almost made him take a trip back into memory lane. He was lucky he didn't, or else he might have missed the feeling of the hand. Rough. Dry. Wrinkled. Old. And yet, still gentle and comforting.
He wet his lips before he spoke again. "Who are you? How can you see me if I can't see you? Am I blind? Where are we? How did I get here?"
A dry laugh. "You're still full of questions."
A small smile found its way onto his face. Instinct told him that the person was nice and wouldn't hurt him--but that didn't mean that they still couldn't be harmful. He lifted a hand to the one at his cheek and slowly brought it down as he processed the sound of the voice coming from in front of him. It was almost like the person's hands. Old. Withering. Worn.
Familiar.
"So I take it that you knew me at some point or another?" he asked, squinting a bit, hopeful that it would change his sight some. Of course, nothing changed, and he began to worry that it wasn't because there was no light.
The person shushed him when he began to reach his free hand to eyes. The hand moved away from his chest and took his other hand. "It's all right. I'll guide you in the darkness," the person said reassuringly.
He made a sound of disbelief. "I don't know how that's going to work out. I don't even know who you are--"
"Ah, but you do. Or you once did."
Cryptic replies. Great. "Can you just tell me what's going on and why I'm here?"
There was a long pause. Then he was forced to regain his balance as he felt himself be encircled in a pair of thin, withering arms. He was surprised even more by the new sound in the room. The sound of sobs muffled against his vest.
"Hey, hey," he said in confusion and in as much of a comforting tone he could manage given the situation. "What's wrong? Why are you cryi--"
He was interrupted by skeletal fingers against his lips. Then he felt the person straighten slightly, though they didn't removed themelves from the small embrace. In a manner that would suggest continually flowing tears, the person said, "It really is you. Somehow...you're here...standing here just how you were when you left all those years ago..."
"Years ago? What--?" Again he was quietened by those fingers and by the small shushing noise.
"It's been years...since we thought you died. Since the Wraith overtook Atlantis. Since--" The person cut themselves off, their voice becoming more and more strained.
He was left stunned with what was said and could only manage one word. "How...?"
The person jumped to answer, "I don't know how you came to be here, but you don't need to worry. You're safe here and I will take care of you until you've completely adjusted and recovered--"
He took a hand into his in a firm grip. "You're not answering my questions," he interrupted lowly. "Tell me where we are--when we are--who you are."
Again, there was a pause. This time, however, it was more of a hesitation. When nothing was said, curiosity got the better of him and he reached out a hand and carefully felt along a wrinkled surface, his fingers telling him it was the person's face because of the nose they had bumped into.
A moment later, the person took his hand and lowered it before placing their hand on his chest once more. "You're standing in the control room of Atlantis over thirty years after its downfall."
He felt himself become unbalanced by this information even if he had heard a brief mentioning of it before. When the hands retracted and only left him blindly reaching into empty air, he grew more and more unnerved. "You didn't finish answering me," he stated loudly, not hearing any sound--not even the other person's breathing. "Who are you?"
There was no answer. It was like he was reaching for a figment of his imagination when waking from a realitistic dream. "Who are you?" he called louder, hearing his voice reverberate throughout the room in a way that he had never heard before in the Atlantis control room--if that's where he was.
Darkness. Silence. Questions. No touch. No sight. The digusting smell.
He stumbled forward only to be tripped up by a rising from the ground. Stairs, he realized dazedly as he scrambled up them. He managed to make it to the upper-level only to run into something yet again. This time, it was a large object set onto the ground. He reached to it, fingers trailing the surface until he came across familiar tiles.
His heart raced, and he stood there, trying to keep himself calm.
That is...until he felt the hard, unmoving form of a skeletal hand that lay on the consol. He jerked away as if he had been burned and backed away from the thing, horrified once again.
That person hadn't been lying. They knew him, knew Atlantis, and knew what had been its ultimate fate.
"WHO ARE YOU?" he exclaimed in the darkness, afraid of his inability to see and effectively defend himself, horrified from the two encounters of human bodies laying out to rot, and angry as hell at the person who had only offered answers to the questions that hadn't mattered in the end.
Major John Sheppard knew where he was and when he was, but he didn't know anything of the one who said they would help him or what had happened to him to place him in this situation.
-tbc-
Yeah...I know what you're thinking. Time travel in Stargate series. Whoopty-doo.
...
>D Apparently, you people don't know me very well. There is no fixing the situation. >D Let's just say...that unlike past Stargate time-travel experiences, this one won't have a solution or a return home. >D I'm going to love writing this. ^____________^
.
Rating: PG-13 (will probably raise rating later on)
Warnings: A swear word...that's about it at the moment.
Summary: It is in human nature to fear what is not known, what is not seen, what is not understood. It is also in human nature to survive and to help others survive. When one is threatened, it becomes the all's role to protect and defend...even if there's nothing left but fear.
Author's Notes: I blame the new seasons of Stargate XP Especially since I've actually watched Stargate: Atlantis episodes finally. >D I also blame my inability to stop producing more projects when I know damn well I have hundreds more to work on >_< Geh... Oh, and this is my first fic for this show...so yeah...>.>;;;
Whenever one thinks about how one would wake up after blacking out, one would think that the first thing that would be registered would be pain. To be honest, he'd never been one to actually follow what others thought or determined. So he wasn't the least bit surprised that the first thing he'd registered was an ordorous smell.
Acrid. Musty. Old.
Death.
The next thing he could recall was the sensation of being spun around on his back like how he would sometimes ride on merry-go-rounds when he was a kid. Round and round he seemed to spin, the motion never ceasing even when he started to feel the pain trickling in. It wasn't a stabbing pain, so he knew that he wasn't severely injured--although it could also mean that he had a concussion and couldn't register the amount of pain correctly.
Then came the actual sense of touch. He could feel that he was--in reality--propped up against a cold, metal wall and a equally cool stoned floor. He could also tell that he was dressed in his usual combat uniform. Boots. Pants. Shirt. Jacket. Vest. He could even feel the weapon in his limp right hand, though he couldn't rightly remember why he would have it in his hand in the first place.
Next came sound. He could hear a groaning of metal under pressure, could hear a buzzing sound that normally accompanied silence. It was the buzzing noise that was driving him mad, so he let out a weary and pained moan to fill in the empty air.
Movement. He was able to move if he could make a sound. He slowly opened his eyes and immediately wished he hadn't.
Darkness. The perpetual lack of sight due to the lack of light.
...and was it just him or was the groaning noise and the horrible stence getting worse?
He slowly got himself reaquainted with his limbs, clenching and unclenching his fingers, shifting his legs, wiggling his toes. Seemed like everything was in working order, so he took the initiative and began to shift to put his hands flat against the ground to lift himself up--
And promtly fell back against the wall, banging the back of his head in the process.
He hissed at the pain and reached up to rub the pained area, only to freeze when his fingers brushed against something soft on the metallic wall next to his head. After a moment of not moving, he carefully allowed his hand to continue to reach to his right, fingers trailing along the softer substance. It took a long moment, but he finally realized what it was he was touching.
Cloth. Covering bone.
He scrambled away from where he was seated, grabbing his weapon and aiming it blindly before he attemtped to use the built-in flashlight.
Click--
BZZT!
"Fuck!" he shouted, dropping the weapon with little thought as he felt an electric shock go through it. He heard it clatter in the dark, remembered that he was at a disadvantage in the dark, and scrambled to find it again, only to draw back his hand from its search along the ground when another shock went through it.
Wonderful. Apparently something strange was going on because he knew for a fact that the flashlight ran on batteries not electricity.
"Not good, not good." He stood from his knelt position, hands fisted and held in front of him, wary of an unseen attack. He listened for any sounds of movements and only heard the sound of breathing.
...not just his breathing, either.
Feeling the andrenaline begin to pump and pushing his anxiety down, he spoke in a light voice that would have been a lot smoother if he hadn't just woken up, "Well, I know if you're like me, then you're as blind as I am...unless I'm the only blind one. And if that's the case, I request that you go easy on me."
It didn't really cross his mind that it could have been a Wraith until he felt a hand place itself on his chest. He stiffened, expecting some sort of excruciating pain that would accompany his life being sucked out of him and devoured by the Wraith.
What he didn't expect was another hand to touch his face, cupping his cheek almost in a motherly fashion that almost made him take a trip back into memory lane. He was lucky he didn't, or else he might have missed the feeling of the hand. Rough. Dry. Wrinkled. Old. And yet, still gentle and comforting.
He wet his lips before he spoke again. "Who are you? How can you see me if I can't see you? Am I blind? Where are we? How did I get here?"
A dry laugh. "You're still full of questions."
A small smile found its way onto his face. Instinct told him that the person was nice and wouldn't hurt him--but that didn't mean that they still couldn't be harmful. He lifted a hand to the one at his cheek and slowly brought it down as he processed the sound of the voice coming from in front of him. It was almost like the person's hands. Old. Withering. Worn.
Familiar.
"So I take it that you knew me at some point or another?" he asked, squinting a bit, hopeful that it would change his sight some. Of course, nothing changed, and he began to worry that it wasn't because there was no light.
The person shushed him when he began to reach his free hand to eyes. The hand moved away from his chest and took his other hand. "It's all right. I'll guide you in the darkness," the person said reassuringly.
He made a sound of disbelief. "I don't know how that's going to work out. I don't even know who you are--"
"Ah, but you do. Or you once did."
Cryptic replies. Great. "Can you just tell me what's going on and why I'm here?"
There was a long pause. Then he was forced to regain his balance as he felt himself be encircled in a pair of thin, withering arms. He was surprised even more by the new sound in the room. The sound of sobs muffled against his vest.
"Hey, hey," he said in confusion and in as much of a comforting tone he could manage given the situation. "What's wrong? Why are you cryi--"
He was interrupted by skeletal fingers against his lips. Then he felt the person straighten slightly, though they didn't removed themelves from the small embrace. In a manner that would suggest continually flowing tears, the person said, "It really is you. Somehow...you're here...standing here just how you were when you left all those years ago..."
"Years ago? What--?" Again he was quietened by those fingers and by the small shushing noise.
"It's been years...since we thought you died. Since the Wraith overtook Atlantis. Since--" The person cut themselves off, their voice becoming more and more strained.
He was left stunned with what was said and could only manage one word. "How...?"
The person jumped to answer, "I don't know how you came to be here, but you don't need to worry. You're safe here and I will take care of you until you've completely adjusted and recovered--"
He took a hand into his in a firm grip. "You're not answering my questions," he interrupted lowly. "Tell me where we are--when we are--who you are."
Again, there was a pause. This time, however, it was more of a hesitation. When nothing was said, curiosity got the better of him and he reached out a hand and carefully felt along a wrinkled surface, his fingers telling him it was the person's face because of the nose they had bumped into.
A moment later, the person took his hand and lowered it before placing their hand on his chest once more. "You're standing in the control room of Atlantis over thirty years after its downfall."
He felt himself become unbalanced by this information even if he had heard a brief mentioning of it before. When the hands retracted and only left him blindly reaching into empty air, he grew more and more unnerved. "You didn't finish answering me," he stated loudly, not hearing any sound--not even the other person's breathing. "Who are you?"
There was no answer. It was like he was reaching for a figment of his imagination when waking from a realitistic dream. "Who are you?" he called louder, hearing his voice reverberate throughout the room in a way that he had never heard before in the Atlantis control room--if that's where he was.
Darkness. Silence. Questions. No touch. No sight. The digusting smell.
He stumbled forward only to be tripped up by a rising from the ground. Stairs, he realized dazedly as he scrambled up them. He managed to make it to the upper-level only to run into something yet again. This time, it was a large object set onto the ground. He reached to it, fingers trailing the surface until he came across familiar tiles.
His heart raced, and he stood there, trying to keep himself calm.
That is...until he felt the hard, unmoving form of a skeletal hand that lay on the consol. He jerked away as if he had been burned and backed away from the thing, horrified once again.
That person hadn't been lying. They knew him, knew Atlantis, and knew what had been its ultimate fate.
"WHO ARE YOU?" he exclaimed in the darkness, afraid of his inability to see and effectively defend himself, horrified from the two encounters of human bodies laying out to rot, and angry as hell at the person who had only offered answers to the questions that hadn't mattered in the end.
Major John Sheppard knew where he was and when he was, but he didn't know anything of the one who said they would help him or what had happened to him to place him in this situation.
-tbc-
Yeah...I know what you're thinking. Time travel in Stargate series. Whoopty-doo.
...
>D Apparently, you people don't know me very well. There is no fixing the situation. >D Let's just say...that unlike past Stargate time-travel experiences, this one won't have a solution or a return home. >D I'm going to love writing this. ^____________^
.