(no subject)
Title -- Alibi (tentative)
Author -- buggs
Fandom(s) -- BSG & SGA (Kara & Sheppard)
Rating -- PG-13ish
Words -- 1,487
Summary -- The beginning
John Sheppard has been running for days before he finds a planet with enough people to fold himself into. He only gets two nights of nearly sleepless rest before he spots Arik eating a disgustingly juicy piece of fruit beside a flower stand on the other side of the park and ends up making a run for the gate amidst a flurry of bullets. It’s another month before he steps onto an overgrown, soulless planet and it takes him five hours to decide that it’s been abandoned for years.
The planet smells like Earth, only sweeter. The sky is overcast, clouds heavy and dark, but it doesn't rain. He sleeps in the outcropping of a high ridge that overlooks the gate, using his jacket and his gun as a pillow. In the morning he takes a closer look at the gate, finding symbols on the ring that he hasn't seen in either galaxy and no DHD. He tries to swallow his fear and retreats back to his hiding place.
When no one appears at the gate for two days (the cycle seem shorter than on most planets, and he thinks it should be hotter) he lets himself hope that he's managed to shake Camden's men and walks into the forest hoping to find something edible. The first fruit he finds leaves him sick and wasted and he isn't sure how long he lays curled around himself on the forest floor, but thinks he'll probably have better luck with animals than vegetation.
Luck is relative and while he doesn't get sick from the charred meat of a poor man's rabbit, they're scarce and crafty bastards and he has always sucked at hunting small furry things. The weather decides to make up for the lack of rain during his first few days on the planet by dumping on him now, and it only takes a few hours to wish he had someone to whine to.
Further investigation of the gate leaves him just as clueless and he can't help but think of Ronon when he catches his fifth rodent. He finds a small river a few kilometers from the gate and fills up his canteen before stripping down to bathe. The cold water does a number on his testicles but his body quickly adjusts and he lets himself enjoy the sharp, painful sting of the water pulling on his battered body.
The river buffers sound and he doesn't hear the creak-click of the gun cocking until he hears her command him to get out of the water. He complies, stands dripping on the shore with his hands hanging loosely at his sides. The blonde is wearing a vicious smirk, as she gives his body a once over. She's also wearing a quarter inch of filth and clothes that are a few sizes too big.
"The water's a little cold." He's feeling her out more than defending his constricted dick. Her look just says "no shit" and he figures it's better to wait for her to speak.
"Dry off and get dressed." Her eyes are dancing, but slightly crazed and he isn't sure if that's a good thing or not. He doesn't bother drying off, just throws on pants and t-shirt quickly, briefly wishing that he'd had the chance to wash them, too. She's confiscated his gun, knife and pen.
"Who are you?" She'd stopped smirking now that he is dressed. He kind of misses it already.
"Colonel John Sheppard, United States Air Force. "
"United States?" The bemused look on her face almost makes him laugh but he doesn't reply. The way she cocks her head, the way her face turns still as stone when she notices his amusement make his blood run cold.
"Are you a Cylon?" Now it's his turn to wear the confused puppy look. There's a wet spot on her right side that he thinks is more than water and he wonders how pale she is beneath all the grime.
"Cylon? No." Confusion seems to be the only thing they have in common at this point. He can try and use it, but that glint is back in her eyes and he believes he will have the best chance of getting out of this with all his limbs intact if he keeps his mouth shut. For now.
"I've heard that before." Her gun arm starts to sag slightly so she brings her left up for more support. Her breathing is coming a little quicker than before and John goes completely still. He's starting to wonder if she's crazy - it's a whole different ball game if that's the case. He continues to stand there, silent and waiting wondering if she's going to pass out or shoot him. She doesn't look too sure herself.
When her left arm starts to tremble, he goes in for a gut tackle, hoping that he's close enough for it to work and immediately regretting it when he hears the gun go off. Sheppard doesn't pause once they're on the ground, waiting till he has her secured before doing a quick limb check. She missed. He's pleased.
She's also unconscious and her already erratic breathing thinned out and he's torn between hoping that she lives and knowing that she's gonna be the biggest pain in the ass if she wakes up. His better angels win out and he kneels and checks her over to make sure there're no open head wounds before lifting her dirt caked shirt to find the source of the blood he'd seen earlier.
Her right flank is blanketed in a series of old scars and new wounds that stretch from her navel to her back, but only one seems to be openly bleeding. A few others are raw, swollen and infected, hot to the touch. He picks her up and moves her closer to the water before grabbing his top shirt from the rock where he'd left it, soaks it in the river and hopes that she doesn't wake up when he begins to gently wipe the blood from her wounds.
She hasn't woken for three days and Sheppard figures she'll die of dehydration if nothing else. It's definitely unnerving to be sitting here in his new camp by the river, waiting for a stranger to die. He needs to go back to the gate, but he can't carry her that far and it feels wrong to leave her lying unconscious in the middle forest. So he waits, cleans her wounds, dutifully puts some of Beckett's super-antibiotics on her tongue, and dribbles small amounts of water into her mouth, not really believing that she'll swallow enough to help.
On the fourth day his need to get back to the gate wins out against his need to stay and watch her die so he covers her with his jacket, gathers all the weapons (never leave an enemy armed, even when they're dead) and hikes out to the gate. He finds no sign of change when he gets there - no foot prints or newly crushed grass, no magically reappearing DHD - so he goes back into the woods to watch the girl die.
He hears low grunting (retching) before he gets to camp and expects to find some undiscovered animal pulling her body apart, but, instead, finds her curled up on her side, body wracked with drive heaves, conscious. He pulls off his shirt, and douses a corner with water, and places it to her cracked lips. He thinks she'd probably be crying now if it were an option.
He's never been very good at being nursemaid (he'd lost a girlfriend when he wasn't willing to wait on her hand and foot when she'd contracted a disgusting virus from God knows where) but he's able to calm her enough to get some water into her. She whimpers and whines and mutters "Lee" and "no" and something that sounds like a cousin of "fuck you" when she's asleep, but is still and quiet when she's awake.
He asks her what her name is when he's fairly sure she's lucid, but she doesn't seem to be interested in answering. She flinches when he cleans her wounds and glares at him when he half carries her to the river. He turns so she can take piss in privacy, then moves up stream to rinse out her jacket as best he can. He'll start on the rest of her clothes (and his) when her jacket is dry enough to cover her.
"Who are you?" He shakes his head because they've already played this game.
"Colonel John Sheppard. United States Air Force."
"Are you a Cylon?"
"I don't even know what a Cylon is." She looks up at him and nods.
"Who are *you*?" He thinks he might get an answer this time.
"Thrace. Lieutenant Kara Thrace. Colonial Fleet." She practically whispers it and Sheppard smirks.
"Well, Kara? Any idea how we get off this planet?"
The smoke didn't show up, but it made me want to write Kara, so I'll claim it as my inspiration. In the end I didn't end up writing Kara much at all. Meh. This is the beginning of a much longer story that includes the other Kara/Sheppard fic I wrote for friday48. I'm a crossover junkie apparantly. *shrug*
Thanks to SL for reading this over and tightening it a bit. You rock.
Author -- buggs
Fandom(s) -- BSG & SGA (Kara & Sheppard)
Rating -- PG-13ish
Words -- 1,487
Summary -- The beginning
John Sheppard has been running for days before he finds a planet with enough people to fold himself into. He only gets two nights of nearly sleepless rest before he spots Arik eating a disgustingly juicy piece of fruit beside a flower stand on the other side of the park and ends up making a run for the gate amidst a flurry of bullets. It’s another month before he steps onto an overgrown, soulless planet and it takes him five hours to decide that it’s been abandoned for years.
The planet smells like Earth, only sweeter. The sky is overcast, clouds heavy and dark, but it doesn't rain. He sleeps in the outcropping of a high ridge that overlooks the gate, using his jacket and his gun as a pillow. In the morning he takes a closer look at the gate, finding symbols on the ring that he hasn't seen in either galaxy and no DHD. He tries to swallow his fear and retreats back to his hiding place.
When no one appears at the gate for two days (the cycle seem shorter than on most planets, and he thinks it should be hotter) he lets himself hope that he's managed to shake Camden's men and walks into the forest hoping to find something edible. The first fruit he finds leaves him sick and wasted and he isn't sure how long he lays curled around himself on the forest floor, but thinks he'll probably have better luck with animals than vegetation.
Luck is relative and while he doesn't get sick from the charred meat of a poor man's rabbit, they're scarce and crafty bastards and he has always sucked at hunting small furry things. The weather decides to make up for the lack of rain during his first few days on the planet by dumping on him now, and it only takes a few hours to wish he had someone to whine to.
Further investigation of the gate leaves him just as clueless and he can't help but think of Ronon when he catches his fifth rodent. He finds a small river a few kilometers from the gate and fills up his canteen before stripping down to bathe. The cold water does a number on his testicles but his body quickly adjusts and he lets himself enjoy the sharp, painful sting of the water pulling on his battered body.
The river buffers sound and he doesn't hear the creak-click of the gun cocking until he hears her command him to get out of the water. He complies, stands dripping on the shore with his hands hanging loosely at his sides. The blonde is wearing a vicious smirk, as she gives his body a once over. She's also wearing a quarter inch of filth and clothes that are a few sizes too big.
"The water's a little cold." He's feeling her out more than defending his constricted dick. Her look just says "no shit" and he figures it's better to wait for her to speak.
"Dry off and get dressed." Her eyes are dancing, but slightly crazed and he isn't sure if that's a good thing or not. He doesn't bother drying off, just throws on pants and t-shirt quickly, briefly wishing that he'd had the chance to wash them, too. She's confiscated his gun, knife and pen.
"Who are you?" She'd stopped smirking now that he is dressed. He kind of misses it already.
"Colonel John Sheppard, United States Air Force. "
"United States?" The bemused look on her face almost makes him laugh but he doesn't reply. The way she cocks her head, the way her face turns still as stone when she notices his amusement make his blood run cold.
"Are you a Cylon?" Now it's his turn to wear the confused puppy look. There's a wet spot on her right side that he thinks is more than water and he wonders how pale she is beneath all the grime.
"Cylon? No." Confusion seems to be the only thing they have in common at this point. He can try and use it, but that glint is back in her eyes and he believes he will have the best chance of getting out of this with all his limbs intact if he keeps his mouth shut. For now.
"I've heard that before." Her gun arm starts to sag slightly so she brings her left up for more support. Her breathing is coming a little quicker than before and John goes completely still. He's starting to wonder if she's crazy - it's a whole different ball game if that's the case. He continues to stand there, silent and waiting wondering if she's going to pass out or shoot him. She doesn't look too sure herself.
When her left arm starts to tremble, he goes in for a gut tackle, hoping that he's close enough for it to work and immediately regretting it when he hears the gun go off. Sheppard doesn't pause once they're on the ground, waiting till he has her secured before doing a quick limb check. She missed. He's pleased.
She's also unconscious and her already erratic breathing thinned out and he's torn between hoping that she lives and knowing that she's gonna be the biggest pain in the ass if she wakes up. His better angels win out and he kneels and checks her over to make sure there're no open head wounds before lifting her dirt caked shirt to find the source of the blood he'd seen earlier.
Her right flank is blanketed in a series of old scars and new wounds that stretch from her navel to her back, but only one seems to be openly bleeding. A few others are raw, swollen and infected, hot to the touch. He picks her up and moves her closer to the water before grabbing his top shirt from the rock where he'd left it, soaks it in the river and hopes that she doesn't wake up when he begins to gently wipe the blood from her wounds.
She hasn't woken for three days and Sheppard figures she'll die of dehydration if nothing else. It's definitely unnerving to be sitting here in his new camp by the river, waiting for a stranger to die. He needs to go back to the gate, but he can't carry her that far and it feels wrong to leave her lying unconscious in the middle forest. So he waits, cleans her wounds, dutifully puts some of Beckett's super-antibiotics on her tongue, and dribbles small amounts of water into her mouth, not really believing that she'll swallow enough to help.
On the fourth day his need to get back to the gate wins out against his need to stay and watch her die so he covers her with his jacket, gathers all the weapons (never leave an enemy armed, even when they're dead) and hikes out to the gate. He finds no sign of change when he gets there - no foot prints or newly crushed grass, no magically reappearing DHD - so he goes back into the woods to watch the girl die.
He hears low grunting (retching) before he gets to camp and expects to find some undiscovered animal pulling her body apart, but, instead, finds her curled up on her side, body wracked with drive heaves, conscious. He pulls off his shirt, and douses a corner with water, and places it to her cracked lips. He thinks she'd probably be crying now if it were an option.
He's never been very good at being nursemaid (he'd lost a girlfriend when he wasn't willing to wait on her hand and foot when she'd contracted a disgusting virus from God knows where) but he's able to calm her enough to get some water into her. She whimpers and whines and mutters "Lee" and "no" and something that sounds like a cousin of "fuck you" when she's asleep, but is still and quiet when she's awake.
He asks her what her name is when he's fairly sure she's lucid, but she doesn't seem to be interested in answering. She flinches when he cleans her wounds and glares at him when he half carries her to the river. He turns so she can take piss in privacy, then moves up stream to rinse out her jacket as best he can. He'll start on the rest of her clothes (and his) when her jacket is dry enough to cover her.
"Who are you?" He shakes his head because they've already played this game.
"Colonel John Sheppard. United States Air Force."
"Are you a Cylon?"
"I don't even know what a Cylon is." She looks up at him and nods.
"Who are *you*?" He thinks he might get an answer this time.
"Thrace. Lieutenant Kara Thrace. Colonial Fleet." She practically whispers it and Sheppard smirks.
"Well, Kara? Any idea how we get off this planet?"
The smoke didn't show up, but it made me want to write Kara, so I'll claim it as my inspiration. In the end I didn't end up writing Kara much at all. Meh. This is the beginning of a much longer story that includes the other Kara/Sheppard fic I wrote for friday48. I'm a crossover junkie apparantly. *shrug*
Thanks to SL for reading this over and tightening it a bit. You rock.