HIS PEOPLE BY wildcat88 [LFWS #1 ROUND 3]
Title: His People
Author: wildcat88
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Stargate belongs to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc., no infringements of any rights is intended.
Spoilers: General spoiler for Season 5
Prompt for the Round: Choose from two to all characters from the list and write a story in which there is no dialogue at all. There must be social interaction, but you can’t write any dialog. No other characters allowed, but can be mentioned.
HIS PEOPLE by wildcat88
Richard flinched when the key jangled in the lock. Steeling himself, he pushed to his feet and tugged at the hem of his shirt, smoothing the front. His arms already looked like pincushions, and his eyes had lost the ability to focus properly several days ago, but he’d be damned if he would cower. He’d done that once, a couple of years back, with the Replicators. He could still see the disdain on his people’s faces. His people… Even after all the questioning, the posturing, the screaming he’d done, he still didn’t know where they were, if they were alive.
He lifted his chin defiantly as the door cracked. The muzzle of a P-90 poked in and slowly swept the door open. Major Lorne crept inside, his smile fading as he got a good look at Richard. Jaw clenched, Lorne raised a finger to his lips and beckoned him to follow. Richard nodded, blinking furiously and swallowing the lump in his throat.
Lorne stepped into the hall in a half-crouch, corralling Richard behind him with one arm. The wing was deafeningly silent, and Richard decided to blame his watery eyes on the pungent odor of urine and formaldehyde. He reached out tentatively, choking back a sob when his hand landed on black nylon and solid muscle. Not a hallucination this time. Richard didn’t realize his fingers had curled around the material in a death grip until Lorne glanced back, his eyes filled with compassion. And rage.
The colorless tunic and slippers did little to keep out the cold or protect his dignity as Lorne hustled him down the hall, but Richard didn’t care. His one thought was Home, and somehow gleaming spires, muted colors, scientists, and soldiers had become that. Lorne led him down two flights of stairs and through another filthy corridor. Gunfire rattled in the distance as they hit the next stairwell. Heavy bootsteps pounded above them. Lorne gave up all attempts at stealth, shouting orders into his radio as they raced down the steps and burst into the ground floor lobby.
Teyla was waiting for them in the building’s entryway, P-90 in hand. Teyla - bruised but alive. Richard smiled at her, unable to speak. She smiled in return, a genuine smile, one that held no hint of fear or grief for fallen comrades. Richard’s knees buckled when the implications of that sank in. Teyla wrapped a supportive arm around him as Lorne charged through the door to the outside.
Brilliant sunlight reflected off the most beautiful jumper Richard ever seen. Teyla ushered him in while Lorne hopped in the pilot’s chair and took off. Richard slumped on a bench, cradling his head in his palms as the jumper headed to pick up the rest of the strike team. Teyla pulled Richard’s hands away, gently cleansing the cuts and dabbing antibiotic ointment on the jagged burn marks at his temples, whispering soothing words, graciously ignoring his tears.
His people had come.
For him.
Don’t forget to leave ONLY FEEDBACK in the comments and NOT VOTES. All comments will be screened until the voting closes.
Author: wildcat88
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Stargate belongs to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc., no infringements of any rights is intended.
Spoilers: General spoiler for Season 5
Prompt for the Round: Choose from two to all characters from the list and write a story in which there is no dialogue at all. There must be social interaction, but you can’t write any dialog. No other characters allowed, but can be mentioned.
HIS PEOPLE by wildcat88
Richard flinched when the key jangled in the lock. Steeling himself, he pushed to his feet and tugged at the hem of his shirt, smoothing the front. His arms already looked like pincushions, and his eyes had lost the ability to focus properly several days ago, but he’d be damned if he would cower. He’d done that once, a couple of years back, with the Replicators. He could still see the disdain on his people’s faces. His people… Even after all the questioning, the posturing, the screaming he’d done, he still didn’t know where they were, if they were alive.
He lifted his chin defiantly as the door cracked. The muzzle of a P-90 poked in and slowly swept the door open. Major Lorne crept inside, his smile fading as he got a good look at Richard. Jaw clenched, Lorne raised a finger to his lips and beckoned him to follow. Richard nodded, blinking furiously and swallowing the lump in his throat.
Lorne stepped into the hall in a half-crouch, corralling Richard behind him with one arm. The wing was deafeningly silent, and Richard decided to blame his watery eyes on the pungent odor of urine and formaldehyde. He reached out tentatively, choking back a sob when his hand landed on black nylon and solid muscle. Not a hallucination this time. Richard didn’t realize his fingers had curled around the material in a death grip until Lorne glanced back, his eyes filled with compassion. And rage.
The colorless tunic and slippers did little to keep out the cold or protect his dignity as Lorne hustled him down the hall, but Richard didn’t care. His one thought was Home, and somehow gleaming spires, muted colors, scientists, and soldiers had become that. Lorne led him down two flights of stairs and through another filthy corridor. Gunfire rattled in the distance as they hit the next stairwell. Heavy bootsteps pounded above them. Lorne gave up all attempts at stealth, shouting orders into his radio as they raced down the steps and burst into the ground floor lobby.
Teyla was waiting for them in the building’s entryway, P-90 in hand. Teyla - bruised but alive. Richard smiled at her, unable to speak. She smiled in return, a genuine smile, one that held no hint of fear or grief for fallen comrades. Richard’s knees buckled when the implications of that sank in. Teyla wrapped a supportive arm around him as Lorne charged through the door to the outside.
Brilliant sunlight reflected off the most beautiful jumper Richard ever seen. Teyla ushered him in while Lorne hopped in the pilot’s chair and took off. Richard slumped on a bench, cradling his head in his palms as the jumper headed to pick up the rest of the strike team. Teyla pulled Richard’s hands away, gently cleansing the cuts and dabbing antibiotic ointment on the jagged burn marks at his temples, whispering soothing words, graciously ignoring his tears.
His people had come.
For him.
Don’t forget to leave ONLY FEEDBACK in the comments and NOT VOTES. All comments will be screened until the voting closes.