That Place Called Vegas...
The bright lights of the Vegas strip and all the noises that went with it washed over him in a way that he was sure he was immune to. The lack of response inside to the beauty of many of the sights told him just how disconnected to this world he had become in the last 2 and a half years. He supposed that was why he chose Earth as his destination for this retreat vacation; deep down he had always known what Elizabeth had finally figured out in the last few days: John Sheppard's world has narrowed to Atlantis and the Pegasus galaxy, and the major reason he was there in the first place had been lost somewhere along the way. They had a term for it in the military. Target Fixation.
Target Fixation. The last time he had realized he was suffering from the affliction was shortly after Teyla and Ronon had gone missing and were presumed dead. He had nearly gotten half his team killed because of it then, and now he had put the entirity of Atlantis at risk because he was curious about these new people they had found. What he couldn't tell, was if his fixation was on Inara, or on trying to so desperately to make a permanent home for once in his life. Hell, he couldn't even figure out if it was merely the fact that the Milky Way had been shunted to the back burner for most of the Expedition, only though of when something directly threatened Earth or mankind.
What he did know, was that he needed a reality check, and fast. He really didn't want to have to relive handing in his resignation, or worse, be fired from the one assignment he actually wanted. Maybe his brother.......no. He wasn't going to go down that road. Those bridges had burned a long time ago, and he would not go slinking back to his brother on the heels of whatever military discharge followed whatever his last fatal command decision would be. With a sigh, he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and gazed at his surroudings, seeing everything and nothing all at once.
He had opted not to check out a firearm from the SGC, figuring that it would be hard to take a break from the whole military thing with a gun strapped to his hip. But he couldn't shut off the tactical part of his mind, and so, he was aware of the mugger over there waiting for a mark more distracted than him, he was aware of the undercover cop across the street trying to catch someone in the act of being naughty; he saw the bulge of a weapon under that pimp's jacket, and he heard the threatening growl of a pusher trying to intimidate his buyer down a random alley.
He was trying to pick a place to drop that promised hundred bucks, and found himself drawn to the sound of water cascading into a pool; it was an odd sound to pick out of the noise and bustle of commerce and tourism, but it just emphasized John's state of mind and how much he missed the sound of the ocean at night. He stopped in front of the Bellagio lake, taking in the fountains and the building that rose behind them. He was struck by a sudden longing to return to the SGC and demand that his vacation request be rescinded so he could go home.
To Atlantis.
...The Bellagio.
Close enough...
...to be continued...
Target Fixation. The last time he had realized he was suffering from the affliction was shortly after Teyla and Ronon had gone missing and were presumed dead. He had nearly gotten half his team killed because of it then, and now he had put the entirity of Atlantis at risk because he was curious about these new people they had found. What he couldn't tell, was if his fixation was on Inara, or on trying to so desperately to make a permanent home for once in his life. Hell, he couldn't even figure out if it was merely the fact that the Milky Way had been shunted to the back burner for most of the Expedition, only though of when something directly threatened Earth or mankind.
What he did know, was that he needed a reality check, and fast. He really didn't want to have to relive handing in his resignation, or worse, be fired from the one assignment he actually wanted. Maybe his brother.......no. He wasn't going to go down that road. Those bridges had burned a long time ago, and he would not go slinking back to his brother on the heels of whatever military discharge followed whatever his last fatal command decision would be. With a sigh, he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and gazed at his surroudings, seeing everything and nothing all at once.
He had opted not to check out a firearm from the SGC, figuring that it would be hard to take a break from the whole military thing with a gun strapped to his hip. But he couldn't shut off the tactical part of his mind, and so, he was aware of the mugger over there waiting for a mark more distracted than him, he was aware of the undercover cop across the street trying to catch someone in the act of being naughty; he saw the bulge of a weapon under that pimp's jacket, and he heard the threatening growl of a pusher trying to intimidate his buyer down a random alley.
He was trying to pick a place to drop that promised hundred bucks, and found himself drawn to the sound of water cascading into a pool; it was an odd sound to pick out of the noise and bustle of commerce and tourism, but it just emphasized John's state of mind and how much he missed the sound of the ocean at night. He stopped in front of the Bellagio lake, taking in the fountains and the building that rose behind them. He was struck by a sudden longing to return to the SGC and demand that his vacation request be rescinded so he could go home.
To Atlantis.
...The Bellagio.
Close enough...
...to be continued...