Brothers in Arms by trinityofone (Scars Challenge)
Title: Brothers in Arms
Author: trinityofone
Rating: G
Category: Sheppard gen
Spoilers: Through 'McKay and Mrs. Miller'
Length: ~1100 words
Summary: John has gotten used to the idea of other universes and alternate selves.
A/N: Many thanks to wychwood and siriaeve for looking this over.
Brothers in Arms
John knows he should be surprised when he sees another him, a second him, a double walking through the gate. But he has, he supposes, gotten used to the idea of other universes and alternate selves. Rodney's and Elizabeth's own experiences with the phenomenon have prepared him. So he just nods, "Colonel Sheppard," while the other inclines his head and Colonel Sheppards back. Then he stands back and lets the guy explain how the Atlantis in his universe is in somewhat of a fix-would it be too much of a bother for him to borrow a little device that they certainly won't miss, not unless they get themselves into the exact same jam? "Which you shouldn't, now that I've warned you," says the other him with a grin.
Rodney splutters. Says something about how only he, Sheppard-any Sheppard-would put traveling to another universe on the same level as popping next door for a cup of sugar. So it's the same show as ever, only two now instead of one. Under the new arrangement, John forfeits his lines: "Actually, it was your idea," says the other him, and John can't help smirking and laughing a bit at Rodney's flustered expression.
"John," says Elizabeth, half-amusement, half-warning. John turns to placate her with a grin, but as he does he catches the other him's eye. The brief second of shock there. Then it's gone and his expression is back to normal, though John can feel those cool hazel eyes, that mirror gaze, flitting to his face whenever he turns his head.
Rodney, never one to be outdone by alternate versions of himself, agrees to help, which seems to mean sending Radek in search of the device in question while Rodney himself tackles the task of preparing the gate to send alt-Sheppard home. "It didn't take my Rodney more than half an hour to set up," says his other self, and Rodney hisses, "That's a lie!" before in fact taking it as a challenge.
John waits with the other Sheppard in the conference room. He knows Lorne is-quite wisely-at least slightly suspicious, and he already gave him the nod; the Major will make sure Radek knows the device needs to be throughly checked over before it's handed off to any alternate-hims, no matter how on the level they may seem to be. John, though-John is for once maybe not as suspicious as he ought to be. He feels perfectly at ease with the other him. It's even kind of nice having him here, identical loose-limbed slouch across the table. It feels good. Right.
He tries not to think too hard about what that might mean.
But the other him keeps looking his way. He answers politely some of Elizabeth's questions about how their universes have differed-fewer problems with the Replicators, apparently, but more bad luck with internal malfunction. But his eyes keep returning to John's. John knows what he wants. A moment. Just a moment alone.
He makes it happen. That's one nice thing about being in charge: occasional opportunities to throw your weight around. On the pretense of giving Rodney and Radek a few moments to inspect the device in private (which of course they could actually do anywhere) he leads his counterpart over to a mostly disused office, nominally his own. "Look familiar?" he asks.
"Not really," says the other. "I think I've been in here-twice?-since Elizabeth offered it to me."
John laughs. Turns around and leans against the desk while the other him, him but not him, carefully secures the door.
John is waiting for something. He both knows what it is and doesn't. He's been waiting for it a very long time.
The other him turns so they're facing each other. They look each other over: identical from head to toe, especially thanks to the matching uniforms. Then, "John?" says the other, carefully; and carefully, lifts up his shirt and tugs lightly at the waistband of his pants, exposing his right hip. John knows what he's looking for, sees it immediately: the little half-moon scar, pink on white, like a demented Cheshire Cat grin.
John lifts his own shirt, the left side this time, and exposes the identical mark he carries, the other half, the perfect match.
"Jesse," he says, and the other man nods.
For a second, neither of them moves. When they do it's together-always together; the way it's supposed to be. They move to the center of the room, draw hip to hip. John puts his arms around Jesse's shoulders and feels identical arms squeeze him back. He tries not to shake. Tries not to lose it; not now, not when he's finally found it: the first person he ever lost, the one he's been looking for his entire life.
"It's good to see you," Jesse says, and John says stupidly, "Yeah," inhaling their shared scent, everything richer together than apart. He can see the start of the light pattern of freckles on Jesse's shoulders and back, wants to chart them like Rodney might map the night sky, find every difference, each errant mole, all the subtle shifts.
"I mean," he says, eventually forcing himself to step back, "I guess it's just good to know you're really out there. Somewhere."
Jesse nods. "It is. Because I always felt-"
"Yeah." John echoes the motion, happy to feel it and see it on another's face, instead of merely turning his head for the hundredth, thousandth time, and finding nobody there.
"I even used to talk to you," he admits. "All the time. In secret, after the old man told me the truth of what had happened and tried to make me stop."
"I talked to you, too. About everything." Jesse's rueful grin is one he recognizes. "You weren't much help."
"Apparently not." John grins back. "Guess you made the same mistakes I did, if you ended up here."
"We needed two heads," Jesse says. "Got stuck with one."
"Yeah," says John.
"Yeah."
He wants to step back into those warm, familiar arms. He wants to hold on, to cling, to whisper, finally, finally, finally. But he knows he can't. And Jesse knows he can't. And they both know they have to be adults about this, the Lieutenant Colonels they've become, and not the little boys, the babies: so briefly together, forever after apart.
John reaches out and shakes his brother's hand, touching black wristband to black wristband. Then together, but by their own will this time-together they let go.
It should be noted that I recently read The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield. Anyone who's read that book can probably see where some of the inspiration for this story came from.
Author: trinityofone
Rating: G
Category: Sheppard gen
Spoilers: Through 'McKay and Mrs. Miller'
Length: ~1100 words
Summary: John has gotten used to the idea of other universes and alternate selves.
A/N: Many thanks to wychwood and siriaeve for looking this over.
Brothers in Arms
John knows he should be surprised when he sees another him, a second him, a double walking through the gate. But he has, he supposes, gotten used to the idea of other universes and alternate selves. Rodney's and Elizabeth's own experiences with the phenomenon have prepared him. So he just nods, "Colonel Sheppard," while the other inclines his head and Colonel Sheppards back. Then he stands back and lets the guy explain how the Atlantis in his universe is in somewhat of a fix-would it be too much of a bother for him to borrow a little device that they certainly won't miss, not unless they get themselves into the exact same jam? "Which you shouldn't, now that I've warned you," says the other him with a grin.
Rodney splutters. Says something about how only he, Sheppard-any Sheppard-would put traveling to another universe on the same level as popping next door for a cup of sugar. So it's the same show as ever, only two now instead of one. Under the new arrangement, John forfeits his lines: "Actually, it was your idea," says the other him, and John can't help smirking and laughing a bit at Rodney's flustered expression.
"John," says Elizabeth, half-amusement, half-warning. John turns to placate her with a grin, but as he does he catches the other him's eye. The brief second of shock there. Then it's gone and his expression is back to normal, though John can feel those cool hazel eyes, that mirror gaze, flitting to his face whenever he turns his head.
Rodney, never one to be outdone by alternate versions of himself, agrees to help, which seems to mean sending Radek in search of the device in question while Rodney himself tackles the task of preparing the gate to send alt-Sheppard home. "It didn't take my Rodney more than half an hour to set up," says his other self, and Rodney hisses, "That's a lie!" before in fact taking it as a challenge.
John waits with the other Sheppard in the conference room. He knows Lorne is-quite wisely-at least slightly suspicious, and he already gave him the nod; the Major will make sure Radek knows the device needs to be throughly checked over before it's handed off to any alternate-hims, no matter how on the level they may seem to be. John, though-John is for once maybe not as suspicious as he ought to be. He feels perfectly at ease with the other him. It's even kind of nice having him here, identical loose-limbed slouch across the table. It feels good. Right.
He tries not to think too hard about what that might mean.
But the other him keeps looking his way. He answers politely some of Elizabeth's questions about how their universes have differed-fewer problems with the Replicators, apparently, but more bad luck with internal malfunction. But his eyes keep returning to John's. John knows what he wants. A moment. Just a moment alone.
He makes it happen. That's one nice thing about being in charge: occasional opportunities to throw your weight around. On the pretense of giving Rodney and Radek a few moments to inspect the device in private (which of course they could actually do anywhere) he leads his counterpart over to a mostly disused office, nominally his own. "Look familiar?" he asks.
"Not really," says the other. "I think I've been in here-twice?-since Elizabeth offered it to me."
John laughs. Turns around and leans against the desk while the other him, him but not him, carefully secures the door.
John is waiting for something. He both knows what it is and doesn't. He's been waiting for it a very long time.
The other him turns so they're facing each other. They look each other over: identical from head to toe, especially thanks to the matching uniforms. Then, "John?" says the other, carefully; and carefully, lifts up his shirt and tugs lightly at the waistband of his pants, exposing his right hip. John knows what he's looking for, sees it immediately: the little half-moon scar, pink on white, like a demented Cheshire Cat grin.
John lifts his own shirt, the left side this time, and exposes the identical mark he carries, the other half, the perfect match.
"Jesse," he says, and the other man nods.
For a second, neither of them moves. When they do it's together-always together; the way it's supposed to be. They move to the center of the room, draw hip to hip. John puts his arms around Jesse's shoulders and feels identical arms squeeze him back. He tries not to shake. Tries not to lose it; not now, not when he's finally found it: the first person he ever lost, the one he's been looking for his entire life.
"It's good to see you," Jesse says, and John says stupidly, "Yeah," inhaling their shared scent, everything richer together than apart. He can see the start of the light pattern of freckles on Jesse's shoulders and back, wants to chart them like Rodney might map the night sky, find every difference, each errant mole, all the subtle shifts.
"I mean," he says, eventually forcing himself to step back, "I guess it's just good to know you're really out there. Somewhere."
Jesse nods. "It is. Because I always felt-"
"Yeah." John echoes the motion, happy to feel it and see it on another's face, instead of merely turning his head for the hundredth, thousandth time, and finding nobody there.
"I even used to talk to you," he admits. "All the time. In secret, after the old man told me the truth of what had happened and tried to make me stop."
"I talked to you, too. About everything." Jesse's rueful grin is one he recognizes. "You weren't much help."
"Apparently not." John grins back. "Guess you made the same mistakes I did, if you ended up here."
"We needed two heads," Jesse says. "Got stuck with one."
"Yeah," says John.
"Yeah."
He wants to step back into those warm, familiar arms. He wants to hold on, to cling, to whisper, finally, finally, finally. But he knows he can't. And Jesse knows he can't. And they both know they have to be adults about this, the Lieutenant Colonels they've become, and not the little boys, the babies: so briefly together, forever after apart.
John reaches out and shakes his brother's hand, touching black wristband to black wristband. Then together, but by their own will this time-together they let go.
It should be noted that I recently read The Thirteenth Tale by Diane Setterfield. Anyone who's read that book can probably see where some of the inspiration for this story came from.