How It Happens (1/1)
Title: How It Happens
Author: somehowunbroken
Fandom: SGA/SG1
Characters: John/Cam
Word Count: 1,103
Rating: G
Notes: For stargateland's declassification challenge. This is how it happens.
It happens like this:
A phone call, a flurry of words that start mid-sentence and end mid-sentence, a flash of light in her kitchen, and Jeannie Miller is face-to-face with her very excited brother.
“It’s out, it’s everywhere,” Meredith babbles. “Or it will be. Soon. Very soon. Jeannie, do you know what this - and for you, too, with the matter stream bridge - and I can publish everything, all of it-”
“Mer,” Jeannie says in her talking-to-Madison voice. “What’s going on?”
“Look,” he replies, almost giddy, and he slaps a stack of papers in her direction. “Look, look, they’re finally letting everyone know-”
Jeannie tunes him out and begins to sift through the papers. A smile begins to form on her face.
It happens like this:
“Momma,” Cameron says as the door opens, and Wendy smiles back at her son, opening her arms to welcome him home.
“Look, I’ve got some news,” he says after supper, and he’s looking at his folded hands, like he’d done when he was a boy, telling them something he’d kept from them, and Wendy prepares herself for illegitimate children or a secret wife or something of the like. “It’s - well, about work.”
“Deep space radar telemetry,” Frank deadpans, and Wendy elbows him. A cover story is a cover story, no matter how transparent, and they’ve had enough military in the family to let sleeping dogs lie, as it were. Cameron just flushes and ducks his head and opens his mouth, and Wendy could never have prepared herself for what he says next.
It happens like this:
There’s a knock on his office door one day, and Dave calls for the person on the other side to enter without looking up. It’s probably just Margie, anyway. When nobody comes in after a minute, Dave pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs and walks to open the door.
“Hey,” John says awkwardly, and Dave’s never seen his younger brother in dress blues, not even at Dad’s funeral. He looks out of place in them, like a little kid playing dress-up, but Dave thinks that has more to do with his own memories of John actually being that kid than any appearance now. “Um, can we talk?”
John, in his office, wearing his Air Forces blues. Talk on the politics edge of things about something huge being declassified soon.
Dave steps back and gestures to the chairs by his desk, and John takes a seat and a breath and starts to talk.
It happens like this:
It’s a bit different for everyone. Evan’s family doesn’t even bat an eyelash when they find out; Radek’s sister swears at him for an hour. Sam’s brother stares at her in astonishment. Jack, well, Jack doesn’t really have anyone to tell, but then he thinks about his son and almost not having the strength to go on and how the Program might have saved his life, and he digs out his phonebook and calls Sara.
The best reunion, they all agree, is when Carson shows up on his mother’s doorstep with a grin and a bouquet of flowers unlike any she’s seen in her life, and she just cries and cries and doesn’t stop smiling for days.
It happens like this:
It’s small, at first, because The Powers That Be at least understand that news of aliens and averted invasions and other planets and other galaxies is going to cause widespread panic if it’s let out too quickly. But it starts with a few documents, then a public statement, and then, oh, then the public takes notice and all hell breaks loose for a while. It’s press conferences and fake smiles and the heroes of the Stargate Program becoming more famous than movie stars.
It’s Ronon and Teyla and Vala and Teal’c being interviewed on talk show after talk show, and Ronon getting angry that he can’t bring his blaster, and Teyla not knowing how to respond to Oprah, and Teal’c inclining his head a lot, and Vala loving every second of it. It’s Daniel and Jack and Sam trying to foist all of their laud and honor onto Cam, who’s trying his best to have none of it, and it’s John laughing as Rodney finally gets his spotlight and sputters and preens his way through it.
It ends like this:
It’s years and years later, really, before things cool off enough to be considered settled. It’s after Jack finally flips off enough reporters for them to get the hint that no, he really doesn’t want to talk, after John decides that he’s had enough with being the SGC’s poster boy and drags Cam into a sloppy kiss at a press conference, after Rodney and Radek and, yes, Jeannie, publish enough papers to forever change the face of physics and chemistry and a good deal of other disciplines. It’s after all of that, when John’s sitting on the porch of the home he’s shared with Cam for twenty years, watching the wind blow leaves through the yard, when it really hits him.
He was a part of it, a part of something big, bigger than anything he could ever have imagined as that awkward kid in a too-well-tailored suit, dreaming of the sky. John was a part of history in a way that isn’t going to fade in a decade or two or three; his name is going to go down as one of Earth’s first intergalactic explorers. The history books aren’t going to lose his name over time.
It’s a shock, really, a revelation, and it seems silly at this point; he’s been out of the Air Force for fifteen years now, hasn’t been to Pegasus for twelve. And yet, he thinks as Cam drops beside him in the porch swing, joining him in their nightly ritual of staring at the heavens, it still comes as a surprise.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Cam says after a bit, and his voice is thinner now, raspier than it ever was, but he’s been to the edge of the galaxy and further in his life. He’s earned this now.
John smiles at him and shrugs a shoulder. “We’re the people I idolized when I was a kid,” he tries to explain. “Only I don’t feel like a hero.”
Cam smiles and leans back and looks up in the general direction of Pegasus. He nods his head towards the distant galaxy. “Bunch of people out there who might disagree with you.”
“They might,” John allows. “Doesn’t mean they’re right.”
Cam just keeps smiling, his gaze upon the stars, as he threads his fingers through John’s. “They’re right.”
Author: somehowunbroken
Fandom: SGA/SG1
Characters: John/Cam
Word Count: 1,103
Rating: G
Notes: For stargateland's declassification challenge. This is how it happens.
It happens like this:
A phone call, a flurry of words that start mid-sentence and end mid-sentence, a flash of light in her kitchen, and Jeannie Miller is face-to-face with her very excited brother.
“It’s out, it’s everywhere,” Meredith babbles. “Or it will be. Soon. Very soon. Jeannie, do you know what this - and for you, too, with the matter stream bridge - and I can publish everything, all of it-”
“Mer,” Jeannie says in her talking-to-Madison voice. “What’s going on?”
“Look,” he replies, almost giddy, and he slaps a stack of papers in her direction. “Look, look, they’re finally letting everyone know-”
Jeannie tunes him out and begins to sift through the papers. A smile begins to form on her face.
It happens like this:
“Momma,” Cameron says as the door opens, and Wendy smiles back at her son, opening her arms to welcome him home.
“Look, I’ve got some news,” he says after supper, and he’s looking at his folded hands, like he’d done when he was a boy, telling them something he’d kept from them, and Wendy prepares herself for illegitimate children or a secret wife or something of the like. “It’s - well, about work.”
“Deep space radar telemetry,” Frank deadpans, and Wendy elbows him. A cover story is a cover story, no matter how transparent, and they’ve had enough military in the family to let sleeping dogs lie, as it were. Cameron just flushes and ducks his head and opens his mouth, and Wendy could never have prepared herself for what he says next.
It happens like this:
There’s a knock on his office door one day, and Dave calls for the person on the other side to enter without looking up. It’s probably just Margie, anyway. When nobody comes in after a minute, Dave pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs and walks to open the door.
“Hey,” John says awkwardly, and Dave’s never seen his younger brother in dress blues, not even at Dad’s funeral. He looks out of place in them, like a little kid playing dress-up, but Dave thinks that has more to do with his own memories of John actually being that kid than any appearance now. “Um, can we talk?”
John, in his office, wearing his Air Forces blues. Talk on the politics edge of things about something huge being declassified soon.
Dave steps back and gestures to the chairs by his desk, and John takes a seat and a breath and starts to talk.
It happens like this:
It’s a bit different for everyone. Evan’s family doesn’t even bat an eyelash when they find out; Radek’s sister swears at him for an hour. Sam’s brother stares at her in astonishment. Jack, well, Jack doesn’t really have anyone to tell, but then he thinks about his son and almost not having the strength to go on and how the Program might have saved his life, and he digs out his phonebook and calls Sara.
The best reunion, they all agree, is when Carson shows up on his mother’s doorstep with a grin and a bouquet of flowers unlike any she’s seen in her life, and she just cries and cries and doesn’t stop smiling for days.
It happens like this:
It’s small, at first, because The Powers That Be at least understand that news of aliens and averted invasions and other planets and other galaxies is going to cause widespread panic if it’s let out too quickly. But it starts with a few documents, then a public statement, and then, oh, then the public takes notice and all hell breaks loose for a while. It’s press conferences and fake smiles and the heroes of the Stargate Program becoming more famous than movie stars.
It’s Ronon and Teyla and Vala and Teal’c being interviewed on talk show after talk show, and Ronon getting angry that he can’t bring his blaster, and Teyla not knowing how to respond to Oprah, and Teal’c inclining his head a lot, and Vala loving every second of it. It’s Daniel and Jack and Sam trying to foist all of their laud and honor onto Cam, who’s trying his best to have none of it, and it’s John laughing as Rodney finally gets his spotlight and sputters and preens his way through it.
It ends like this:
It’s years and years later, really, before things cool off enough to be considered settled. It’s after Jack finally flips off enough reporters for them to get the hint that no, he really doesn’t want to talk, after John decides that he’s had enough with being the SGC’s poster boy and drags Cam into a sloppy kiss at a press conference, after Rodney and Radek and, yes, Jeannie, publish enough papers to forever change the face of physics and chemistry and a good deal of other disciplines. It’s after all of that, when John’s sitting on the porch of the home he’s shared with Cam for twenty years, watching the wind blow leaves through the yard, when it really hits him.
He was a part of it, a part of something big, bigger than anything he could ever have imagined as that awkward kid in a too-well-tailored suit, dreaming of the sky. John was a part of history in a way that isn’t going to fade in a decade or two or three; his name is going to go down as one of Earth’s first intergalactic explorers. The history books aren’t going to lose his name over time.
It’s a shock, really, a revelation, and it seems silly at this point; he’s been out of the Air Force for fifteen years now, hasn’t been to Pegasus for twelve. And yet, he thinks as Cam drops beside him in the porch swing, joining him in their nightly ritual of staring at the heavens, it still comes as a surprise.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Cam says after a bit, and his voice is thinner now, raspier than it ever was, but he’s been to the edge of the galaxy and further in his life. He’s earned this now.
John smiles at him and shrugs a shoulder. “We’re the people I idolized when I was a kid,” he tries to explain. “Only I don’t feel like a hero.”
Cam smiles and leans back and looks up in the general direction of Pegasus. He nods his head towards the distant galaxy. “Bunch of people out there who might disagree with you.”
“They might,” John allows. “Doesn’t mean they’re right.”
Cam just keeps smiling, his gaze upon the stars, as he threads his fingers through John’s. “They’re right.”